Lovely Adulation
by Canadian Apologies
Summary: Sex crazed high school senior Arthur Kirkland is head over heels for Alfred Jones and would give anything to have his way with him. But after discovering a dark secret about the American, Arthur decides he'd rather take it slow for once. UKUS
1. Chapter 1

The school's most popular pair, two blonds of opposite hairstyles and aspects, walked down the hallways of which they practically owned. The taller one, with longer and better nourished fair colored locks, linked arms with the other rather unamused boy with the inclement lighter blond hair. He stylishly brushed back his golden strands and turned to the other boy.

"Hey, Arthur," his thick French accent caught the attention of him.

"What?" a harsh British tongue rolled.

"Have you ever realized how arrogant you appear to everyone? I was only trying to ask you a question," he defended.

The Brit changed his rough expression in exchange for a phony sweet one. He batted his black eyelashes at the other on and apologized, "I'm sorry, how's _this?_"

The Frenchman pouted his lips and muttered, "Too bad you're not like that _all_ the time."

"What's that supposed to mean!" he barked.

"Hey, you had English last period," the other teen interrupted, "What did you guys do?"

Brit rested his facial features and muttered, "What do _you_ think?"

"Was it boring?"

"All day, everyday."

"_C'est des conneries!"_ blondie cursed, swaying his head to the side out of frustration. "I don't feel like doing anything else today!"

"Only shagging men and women alike, am I right?" he added suggestively.

"You're so _dirty_, Arthur! I like that!"

"You're such a whore, Francis."

After a good thirty seconds of silence, wandering the one way hallways for the third time arm in arm, Francis spoke out, "Hey, I haven't asked you this question since freshman year, but do you have your eye on anyone?"

"What do you mean?" Arthur asked moodily.

"You know, anyone you'd like to bump uglies with, _non?_" Francis wriggled his eyebrows.

He sighed, "I'm ashamed to say that's true."

Francis clapped his hands together like a middle school fangirl, his hair flying perfectly behind him, "Ooh! Who is it!"

"Like hell I'd tell _you_," he denied.

"Can you at least tell me of it's a boy or a girl?"

"It's a boy."

"How long have you liked him?" he interrogated further.

"Since about the last month or so of dating Michelle," Arthur provided.

Francis held hand out dramatically, "_Pssh_, why did you even go out with her? She's so annoying."

"I know that now," he huffed.

Arthur's face stiffened as he stared off into the distance and Francis queried, "What's that face for?"

"I think I might tell you who it is," the Brit confided.

"Really?"

He flashed his emerald eyes at the Frenchman evilly and finished, "Only if you promise to help me get him to go out with me."

"Sure, sure. Now, tell me!" he agreed, leaning in closer excitedly.

Arthur jerked his arm down as they stopped, bringing both boys to their bent knees and backs swayed, and squeezed Francis' hand. He used his other hand to point out a golden haired, boy with a bouncy cowlick by a set of lockers.

"Him," he spoke with control. "I want _him_."

"_Arthur,"_ Francis giggled. "You're a cougar."

"No I'm _not! _He's in the same grade as us, isn't he?" he hissed.

He stood upright and looked down at Arthur with curiosity, "Oh, been doing some research, have we?"

"Hell yeah, just look at that face!" Arthur and Francis wrench their necks to get a better look. The Brit drops his head on his own shoulder, placing his free hand over his chest and sighed, "He's such a young heartthrob."

"He's so pretty, do you think he already has a girlfriend or boyfriend?" Frenchie suggested.

Arthur places his head upright. "I don't know, to be honest."

He sucked his teeth and placed his hands on his hips as he scolded, "Don't you think that's some vital information before you ask someone out, Arthur?"

"No, not really," Arthur continued to fawn over the boy.

Francis brushed it off and furthered his questioning, "I think I should already know this, but what's his name?"

"Alfred Jones."

"I still say he looks a little young. Are you sure he isn't younger than us?"

"He might be, I don't know for certain."

The pair stared at the gorgeous sight and took in the rare beauty he is. Francis breaks the momentary silence, "What do you want him for? One night stand?"

"You could say that," Arthur halfway agreed. He bit his bottom lip harshly as he continued to stare, "One night stand every night for the rest of my life."

Francis giggled as Arthur stretched his neck to get a better look at the cutie in question. He smirked and bit his bottom lip, "But that _ass_, though."

"_Stop_ it, Arthur," Francis chuckled. "You're going to make _me_ want him, now!"

"Well, just so you know, he's off limits. That body's mine."

"Oh? Have you even said anything to him yet?" he challenged.

"No, but I plan to ask him out today."

The French student's eyes widened as he exclaimed, "Does this boy even know anything about you? You're a big pedo!"

"Oh, shut up. He _will_," Arthur murmured. He jerked his hand back and casually lean up against the wall, "Look away, here he comes!"

Alfred walked from his locker and strode past the pair. Arthur nonchalantly waved to the sandy haired boy with Francis imitating. He gave a slight smile and acknowledged them back, proceeding back to class. Arthur made sure he left out of hearing range before fetishly smacking Francis on his arm.

"Did you _see_ that! He totally wants me!" the Brit screamed out of character.

Francis grinned and responded, "You're a perv, you know that?"

Arthur darted his eyes up at him, "You call it pervy, I call it 'sexually curious.'"

"I'd think with a sexual history such as your own, your curiosity would be satisfied," Francis teased, arms crossed.

Arthur tramped down the direction the boy with the cowlick went and bidded, "I really hate to leave you, but I believe I have to sweet talk some trousers off!"

"As always, text me about it later," Francis sighed, entering his last class of the day. Instead of going to last period, Arthur wandered further down the hallways, heading for an office, labeled, "_Guidance_ _Office"_.

* * *

"Well, there's this boy I know that goes here," the British accent driven voice spoke out, his feet swinging from beneath his chair.

"What about him?" the counselor follows up.

"I see him in school and he just looks," Arthur looked down at his folded hands, rested nervously in his lap. "Unhappy."

"Unhappy? How so?"

"He seems withdrawn and not as happy as he should be."

"What if that's how he naturally is?" she suggested.

"No, I remember freshman year, the year I first saw him here, he appeared a little more cheerful. You know, worry free, fun loving. That sort of thing."

"When did you notice behavior change in your classmate?"

"He seemed a little less giddy as each year passed. Sophomore year, now that I look back on it, is where this might've started," he recalled, darting his eyes up to the ceiling.

"What do you mean by 'when you look back on it'?" she angled her head up at him.

"I didn't notice anything until recently, to be honest," he huffs a melancholy breath. "Since I've only started liking the boy about a month and a half ago and decided to keep a closer eye on him."

"Have you thought about anything that might've caused his attitude change?"

He wriggled his bushy eyebrows and looked back, "I can't put my finger on what, exactly. I thought maybe high school became too hard for him. But another concern is what I see on him."

"See on him?" her voice was drenched with concern. "Like what?"

"Yes, I see bruises and bitemarks on him and it worries me deeply."

"Do you have another explanation for these injuries other than the more obvious reason?"

"Other than that, no. Do you think that might be a cause?"

"I believe that it's too early to tell, despite that his emotional change has occurred over the past few years. I just don't think he's ready to confide in anyone of his troubles."

"But, is there anything I can do to prevent something extremely destructive happening to him?" he flashed his emerald eyes up at the woman.

The guidance counselor whipped her glasses off her young and luminous face as she suggested, "Try to get closer to him. Take interest in what he likes, try to help him out with classwork. Maybe he'll open up."

"Um, alright," he brushed his choppy faery blond hair from his eyes. "I think I can do that."

"Good. I hope nothing's happened to him and it's all just in your head."

"I hope so, as well."

He left the classroom and puttered down the hallway back to class. Right before he walked into class tardy, he takes the time to reflect. "I hope he's alright, I don't think I could deal if anything bad happened," he thought to himself, hand on the steel classroom door handle.

The beetle browed teenager's eyes scanned the classroom of other adolescents, of which were discussing their plans for a weekend of drunkenness, and fell upon an empty seat next to a pretty boy; Alfred. The British lad slid his bookbag off his back and threw to the floor and slammed himself in the linked chair and desk. The others' ethereal ocean eyes observed the guy who had just took a seat beside him from the corner of his lashes. He kept his hand positioned on his classwork, pencil in grasp and sluggishly wrote notes from the blackboard.

The fair skinned teen turned to the other teen and inquired, "Hey, do you know what we're doing today? Sorry, I came in late."

The younging gripped his pencil tighter and raised his shoulders to the brim of his earlobes. Green eyed stared blankly at the other's reaction. He took notice in his baby blue eyes, godlike metallicy blond locks, and the single tuft of hair that refused to stay put. The British one jerks his head back to his paper after muttering a distinct, "sorry" and continued working on his own.

"Ey, Kirkland!" one of the random classmates called out from the back of the class.

"Can I help you, Gilbert?" 'Kirkland' whipped around rather eerily.

"I see you're making plans for the weekend," Gilbert with the red eyes and snow white hair sneered.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Arthur queried.

"You know," Gilbert held out his hand dramatically to somehow prove his case. "I don't think your ex would be very happy if you were to pick up random American boys for a one night stand right after you guys broke up, Arthur."

Jones dropped his head on the desk, burying his crimson face in crossed arms, as the other defended, "Shut the hell up, Gilbert!"

"Oh, so you've already gotten a one night stand after breaking up with the little French girl?"

"_Michelle_ was the one who broke up with _me_ and she shouldn't have a fucking problem with that."

"How many times?" he giggled.

He jerked his petite frame back front and center the classroom and held up a hand, all five fingers stretched out. The German laughed a hysterical high pitched one and Kirkland provoked the hyperactive student with his middle finger.

"I'm sorry about that," he apologized to the boy with the cowlick and the dress code bending aviator jacket. Arthur fastened his school required necktie and finished, "I hope you know he was kidding, right?"

"Mhm," beautiful blond acknowledged. He pursed his lips in disgust as he squinted down at his paper. The Brit fluttered in his eyelashes as he surveyed the student adjacent to him struggle with assignment.

"Are you having trouble with the equation?" Kirkland asked with an eyebrow raised.

Those half opened crystal water eyes finally faced him head on with lifted brows. Arthur noticed a bruise shadowing his left eye as cutie responded, "No."

"Really?"

He glanced back to the paper and held it close to his squinted pair of blue painted stones.

Arthur loosened his scowl and asked, "What's wrong?"

He looked worriedly back at the teen and asked, "C–can you read it to me?"

"Huh?"

"I… I can't see it."

"Um, okay." Arthur scooted his desk a bit closer to other boys' and used his pencil to correspond to his teachings. As he explained, Arthur felt himself heat up from admiration. He thought to himself how much he loved this boy. The drop dead gorgeous adolescent brought his face closer to the paper and hunched his back to get a better view of the worksheet.

"So, does _that_ answer go with _this_ problem?" Alfred tapped the graphite onto the paper's distressed surface in display of his question.

"No, we were just over this," Arthur re explained, his finger tapped the question beside it. "It's the solution to _this_ problem."

The other glared his eyes back down at the sheet and wrote down the answer the British boy had helped him solve down. Arthur looked innocently at him and asked, "Hey, you usually wear glasses. Where are they today?"

Alfred's Texas sky eyes skitted nervously around the room until they finally landed back at Arthur, and he responded, "They broke last night."

"Oh, okay. Then, how did that happen?" he pointed his finger to the reprehensible black and blue that stunted the beauty of the other boy's youthful face.

He shifted his head back the front of the classroom to conceal the obscenity and muttered, "Nothing."

_Like hell that's nothing. You must think I'm as dumb as shit to believe that boldface lie._

"Oh, alright." Arthur slid his bottom and returned to the state of working alongside him. They worked on a few more problems and the boy offered to solve one on his own. A few minutes of silence between them. Arthur's thoughts ran rampant as the wall of prolonged nothingness grew taller as each brick was laid.

_What really happened to you? I know you lied to me to hide something uglier than that black eye._

"Hey, I think I got it!" Alfred proclaimed half heartedly, eyes remained on the paper.

"Yeah, I think you got the hang of it now," blond haired Kirkland praised as he corrected his work.

The bell rang unexpectedly and everyone scurried to collect their shit and get the hell out. He sluggishly grabbed his backpack and slung it over his brawny shoulder, careful not to disturb that adorable cowlick of his in the process.

"Thanks for helpin' me today, Arthur," blue eyed thanked, proceeding out of the classroom exit and trailing right beside him.

"No problem, Alfred," Arthur flashed those summer cut grass at Alfred in hopes of an instant romantic connection, but to no avail.

Arthur left Alfred at the busses and walked the short distance to his own vehicle and started the ignition. He sat in motionlessness for a minute to cogitate about the cutie he had been head over heels for for a while.

"I've never felt like this with anyone but him," Arthur mumbled to himself. "A relationship might be the way to go in dealing with my feelings with him. I don't want to take things fast with him, like my other relationships. I want to savor his presence for as long as I can."

Arthur brought his rather larger than average eyebrows together and banged his head on the steering wheel. "Curse him for being so gorgeous and fucking flawless!"

He lifted his head again and muttered half serious, "Damn, what I'd give to have that American ass in _my_ bed every night."

He aggressively jerked the wheel of his vehicle and steered his way home out of the school parking lot.

* * *

"Are you serious! Look, Francis, no matter how cute he is, I'm not driving down there to pick up a hooker!" Arthur yelled back into his cell phone. "Why don't you take him, if you want him so bad? What? Hell no I'm going all the way there just to get a look at him, just send me a picture!"

Arthur paced back and forth his empty living room, contemplating the outcome of Francis' suggested action. "Is he _that_ hot?"

He sighed as he strutted back to his bedroom, retrieving his wallet and car keys. "Alright, but if I go down there and it turns out your ass was lying, there'll be hell to pay."

He hung up the phone and shoved it in his back pocket. Arthur Kirkland huffed back to his automobile, deep red in pigment, and took the drive down to Francis. He exited the vehicle and stormed to Frenchman, with a hint of resentment on his lips.

"Okay, so where is this 'miracle child' I so desperately need to check out?" Arthur folded his arms childishly and scanned the flooded streets of crowds for a miracle to hit him.

"Over here, _mon ami_," Francis whispered as if they were going into a sleeping child's bedroom. He took the Brit by the arm and guided him over to a secluded alleyway. Guarding the building corner stood a character that strummed a note of familiarity with Arthur, but apparently not to the Frenchman.

"Hey, this is the guy I was talking about earlier," Francis presented. "Say _bonjour_, Artie."

"Hello," Arthur pouted, eyebrows furrowed. The boy, no older than the two of them, bended down, his metal accessories clinking, and neared his face by the choppy blond.

"Aw, can't ya greet me in a more friendly manner?"

"No, not really," Arthur spat.

Francis spoke up, "So, are you an _actual_ prostitute?"

The boy smirked as if he achieved something and continued, "Are you guys cops?"

Francis and Arthur looked synchronously at each other, turned back to him, and nodded their heads.

"I'm a prostitute," he buffed his fingernails on his shady opaque jacket, one that would be used to hide something. Arthur looked up at the hooker and recognized his shiny blond hair in an instant, but his precious rebellious tuft of hair was slicked back. In other words, he looked completely different than he did just a few hours ago. He wasn't wearing that iconic aviator jacket, still glassesless, and that nasty black eye was completely covered up with, what Arthur assumed, to be make up. Nonetheless, those angelic blue eyes shone through his masquerade.

_Is this still the same boy I know? If he is, why hasn't Francis realized it?_

"Hey, you're zonin' out on me," the now smooth talking blond caught the attention of Arthur. He shook his head slightly, a few strands of dusty gold caressed the frame of his face in the process, and returned to the conversation.

"Sorry, I spaced out."

"So your friend here was just telling me about your dating life," he nodded his head towards a nervously sweating Francis.

The emerald eyed Brit turned to his buddy and snarled, "_Did_ he?"

"So you're on a bit of a dry spell, right?"

"That's none of your concern."

"_Feh,"_ he repositioned his back against the scratchy brick building. "I _live_ off of dry spells."

Arthur made the realization and slid over to his friend, "Are you trying to set me up with this man, Francis?"

He rubbed the back of his neck, "Not exactly, Arthur. It's just—"

"Then why?"

"Because you still don't seem to be over Michelle! You need a night to loosen up and forget her and her constant bitchiness!"

"That's what you said about the last five times after her," Arthur scrunched his nose in disgust. "I can't stand it when I do that." He looked back up with a perspective, "But I love it too much to stop."

"Well, let this be number six!" Francis shrugged his shoulders. "C'mon, I already payed for a night with him for you!"

Arthur exhaled expressively and hung his head low. "You really are a pervert, aren't you?" he jokingly insulted.

"_I'm_ the slut, _you're_ the pervert."

"That seems about right." Arthur's face lit up after stating so.

_I know a way to find out for sure it's him._

With a dangerous smirk played across his lips, Francis catches on to his misleadingness and raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, has someone strayed back to his usual way?"

"You know what, Francis?" he smiles, having his games plan set up. "Why don't you go home now and I'll work out the details here with him."

Francis played his recognizable chuckle and swayed his way back to his car after he waved goodbye. Arthur waited until his friend left for good and reentered the alley way with evil emerald eyes.

"Bend down," the British teen demanded.

"Hey, I don't do cheap alley tricks!" the other warded, hunching over anyways.

Arthur brought his fingers to the boy's' scalp and ruffled the gel out of his hair. The adolescent closed one eye in disturbance, but let the other continue. Sure enough, that animated cowlick popped back into its place and Arthur took his hands back off the wide eyed American.

"I knew it," he harshly confessed. "It's none other than Alfred Fucking Jones himself."

* * *

_AN: I've rewritten this story, so hopefully it won't be as terrible._


	2. Chapter 2

"I knew it," he harshly confessed. "It's none other than Alfred Fucking Jones himself."

"_Shh!"_ Alfred held a gloved finger to his own lips to signal secrecy. "I can't have anyone here findin' out my real name!"

"Let me ask a better question," Arthur tilted his hips exaggeratedly. "Why the fuck are you here?"

The American shifted his eyes to the ground and retained the shy boy appearance he maintained in school as he held his hands behind his back. "I'd rather not say."

"Okay," he stressed. "Do you have a car or anything? How did you get here?"

"My boyfriend dropped me off here."

He gave a frustrated huff as he grabbed the other boy's wrist. "Yeah, you're coming home with me."

"For…?"

"No. We're going to have a nice, _long_ talk, instead." He pulled out his car keys and unlocked the vehicle pushing the poor boy into the passenger side. As he climbed into the driver's seat, he began the interrogation.

"Tell me something, Alfred," he used his first name as an advocate for better results, "about this boyfriend of yours."

"He's really handsome, and he—"

"No, no. Cut that bullshit," he halted matter of factly. "I mean, how does he treat you?"

Alfred looked down at his hands on his knees. "What does it mean to you?"

"That's what I figured. Now, tell me about your 'job'," he went on with the inquisition.

Blue eyed winced, "Do I really have to?"

"Hey, Francis paid for a full night with you, now fulfill your part."

"My boyfriend makes me."

"Okay. Why?"

"He thinks I'm handsome enough to make a living off of it, so he makes me do it for my half of the rent."

"So, you live with your boyfriend? How come he won't let you live there for free out of love?"

"He has a really different approach on love, you could say."

Before he knew it, Arthur arrived back at his house and exited the car upon realization. He dragged the American by his unwilling wrist and shoved him on the living room sofa.

"Stay here a minute," he asserted. Arthur strided to the kitchen and ripped a piece of paper towel off its roll, wet it, and returned to the family room. He approached Alfred with the towel and slapped it on his face, attempting to repeatedly wipe something off.

"W–what are you doing!" the beautifully blue eyed boy screamed.

Arthur, on the other hand, knew exactly what he was doing. He rubbed over the boy's face a few more times and removed the towel, revealing the same bruise from earlier along with a few new of its friends.

"I _fucking_ knew it," Arthur pouted, the paper towel balled in his clenched fists.

"Knew what! Why do you keep saying that!"

"What size clothes do you wear?" he throws the conversation off topic.

"What?" he stutters.

Arthur stood to his feet and offered his hand to him. "Come here."

The look in his eyes indicated a strong battle had taken place there, but he took the Brit's lengthy fingers anyways. Arthur grasped Alfred's hand for better grip and led him to his bedroom, shoving him off to the bed and turning to his dresser.

"What're you doing?" the handsome American asked, his neck strained to get a glimpse of the other boy's doings.

Arthur turned around with an oversized t-shirt and a large pair of black joggers. "Go in the bathroom and put these on."

"Why?"

"I don't know what _you're_ into, but I'm not talking to a man who wears leather trousers _casually_."

Alfred got up and stumbled his way to the bathroom as Arthur watched him for a minute before going to make tea. As he toyed with the kettle and produced a cup of tea and managed to summon a mug of coffee of which he could never make, Alfred came back and peered into the entryway.

"Oh, there you are," Arthur noticed. He pointed to the chair at the seated end of the circular table. "Sit there for me."

Alfred did as he was told and sat on his hands out of nervousness. Arthur whipped around and asked, "Do you like tea?"

"No," Alfred shook his head in the most adorable fashion, according to Arthur. "It tastes like watered down piss."

The Brit damn near slammed a cup of coffee on the table in front of him and placed his tea the same way, frontal his seat.

"So," Arthur sat and scooted his chair in. "Let's start with that job of yours."

Alfred shamefully darted his eyes the other way, "Don't make me repeat it."

"Okay, so what does that job require of you?"

He looked back up at Arthur, "What do you _think?_"

"That's what I thought," Arthur rolled his eyes. "How about that boyfriend? Does he have a name?"

"Ivan."

"What's up with him?" the choppy blond furthered his inquisition.

Alfred turned his head to obscure his face and answered, "He's in college."

"And?"

"And I live with him."

"When did that start?" Arthur asked.

"When I started dating him. Freshman year," Alfred elaborated.

_So, that's the reason. It's all starting to make sense now. _

"Alright," Arthur sipped his tea in a gentlemanly fashion and proceeded. "How's your home life? To your liking?"

Alfred didn't answer directly, only dropped his head and swayed it in a nod.

"What's wrong?" Arthur continued the interrogation. Of course he knew what was going on. He was one of his school's most intelligent students and had already put the puzzle of the American's situation together. "Does he hurt you? Does your family ignore you? Is that it? Something like that?"

"What? No, he doesn't do—"

A crash rang out, ear ringing and heart stopping. Arthur stood upright and looked at the other as he exclaimed, "You lie."

Alfred placed his hand over the heinousness that rented his face for living in such a way where it almost looked discreet and responded, "What?"

Arthur huffed unsatisfied and plopped back down. He forced his elbow on the table and rested his face lazily in his palms, gazing at the boy across of him. "You're really quite beautiful. It's a shame someone has to hurt your pretty little face."

Alfred's eyes widened as he heard Arthur's accusation. "W–what the hell are you tryin' to say? That my boyfriend _beats_ me?"

"Not exactly, all _I'm_ saying is that I'd love you more that 'boyfriend,'" Arthur signaled the quotations with his fingers.

"_What?"_

"Riddle me this," Arthur sat up properly again. "How is it that you still go out with him if he constantly hurts you? Is it because you're more afraid of what'll happen if you broke things off?"

"I-I don't know what the hell you're talkin' about! He wouldn't lay a hand on me."

"Yes, but _I_ would in a _good_ way, feel me?"

"What?"

"You started dating in freshman year, so that means he used his charm to lure you and treated you fairly. You were still that happy go lucky boy everyone loved, until sophomore year," Arthur moved his pointer fingers as he made his accusations.

"Oh _yeah?_"

Arthur took a sip of his tea. "Sophomore year is when he started hurting you, but you tried to remember the happy times, hoping that this was a phase. Flash forward a few years and senior year rolls around. And look at you now."

"There's nothing wrong, I don't know what you're gettin' at!"

"How about your parents?" the Brit drank the last of his tea and stared at the empty cup as he finished, as if all of the answers were coming from the empty saucer. "It's more likely that your parents also harmed you, then it would explain your willingness to stay with that 'Nathaniel' of yours. Am I correct?"

Alfred gaped as the random boy sat there and spat out his entire life story. Arthur took his speechlessness as a yes and chuckled, "I'm _never_ wrong."

Alfred, frustrated, shot up, hands beating against the table top, "What the _hell_ was that?! My parents _never_ hurt me! Do you get _off_ on this?! Is _that_ why you brought me back here?!"

"No." Arthur rose to complete their stand off. "I knew you were in trouble, and I don't think I could watch that gorgeous face of yours shed tears on _my_ account."

The American stood there, utterly flabbergasted, as the Brit tilted his head to the ground and observed the floor tiling.

"I-I don't know what you mean by that," Alfred muttered.

_Now I know the easiest, but most cruel, way to get him._

"You know, I and my friend, Francis, are both some of the school's most popular people. And, if something about your relationship were to accidently _slip_," Arthur looked back up at him with a devilish smirk, "I fear the worst would happen to your reputation."

Blondie stood there completely awestruck as the limey blackmailed him and continued, "But, _I_ won't let anything out."

"Really?"

"On one condition. And don't worry, it's an easy one."

"What?"

Arthur stepped closer to Alfred and looked up to him, commanding, "Go out with me."

Alfred crinkled his eyes warily and asked, "How's _that_ supposed to be _easy?_"

"Huh?" Arthur asked as if he hadn't done anything wrong.

Alfred stated his case, "I'm already dating someone else, I can't—"

"Happily?" the green eyed boy cut short.

Alfred paused for an honest answer. "No?"

"Then, you're my boyfriend as of now." Arthur walked out of the kitchen and to the living room, American cutie trailing shortly after him.

"What are you _doing? _I don't understand what it is that you're trying to—"

"Look, it's one o'clock now, I'll make the sofa for you to sleep on," Arthur interrupted, going back to his bedroom. He came back with blankets and pillows, setting them accordingly onto the couch and sat down. He patted the spot in the sofa and the boy took his offer.

"So, how's your love life?" Arthur asked, apparently unembarrassed.

"Huh?" the dazed blue eyed gazel asked.

"What's the deal with your boy toy?"

"I-um, he—"

"Actually," Arthur rose. "I think I'll figure out for myself _exactly_ what's going on tomorrow when I go to _your_ place."

Alfred's eyes overtook a nervous gaze up at the other, "What do you _mean?_"

"I'm going to your place to pick up your things tomorrow."

"You _can't_ just go into a stranger's _house!_"

"Not if that stranger's my _boyfriend_," Arthur smirked at a blushing Alfred. He strided out of the living room and into hallway, announcing, "And on that note, you're living here for a little while. Until I clear up some of this up."

Arthur retreated to his bedroom as he heard the American yell, "No I'm not!"

"See you in the morning, love!" Arthur settled in his bed blankets and fell asleep, rejoicing in his accomplishment.

_I did what I wanted today, got him to go out with me. And not completely unwillingly, either._

* * *

"Arthur, honey?" a female called out. Arthur felt her hold on him, shaking him awake.

"What is it, mum?" he sputtered tiredishly.

"Nothing. Just wanna ask a few questions," she let her British accent identical to Arthur's exaggerate.

Arthur sat up and sluggishly rubbed his eyes in permission.

"Okay," she continued. "_Why_ is there a strange boy sleeping on our couch and _who_ is he?"

Arthur widened his eyes and paused mid way in ruffling his hair. "He's, uh, a friend from school. I let him stay here."

"Does he have a name?" she asked questioned.

"Alfred." Arthur swung from the mattress and puttered down to the hallway, his mother following like a duckling on its mother goose.

"That _still_ doesn't answer all of my concerns," she nagged.

"That's all you _asked_," he sassed.

Arthur trekked to the couch and sat down, shaking the American to wake. His mother rolled her eyes and stormed to the kitchen instead, figuring that's all she would get from questioning her son at the moment. Alfred, still sleeping, gave a light snore and shoved the covers further up his neck as he curled up into the most adorable fetal position Arthur had ever seen someone sleeping in. Arthur yawned and stretched, plummeting down onto the other blond afterwards, and closed his eyes.

The Brit inhaled deeply as he rearranged his face onto the blanketed teen's back and mumbled raspily, "Good morning, Alfred."

"Where am I?" Alfred muttered, fatigued.

"_My_ house," Arthur answered, remaining on top of him with his arms out forth.

Alfred sat up slowly and yawned, "Oh, right."

In the process, Alfred had knocked the teen over into the crevice between the sofa and his back. Alfred jumpily rolled off the couch, landing on his left burly arm and onto the rigid and unforgiving hardwood.

"W-What are you doing?!" Alfred inquired, sitting on his bottom, now.

"Shh, my mother's home," Arthur hushed. "I don't want her to know."

"Huh?"

The big browed adolescent sprung to his feet and paced to the kitchen where, standing purposely by the tea kettle, his mother continued her ragging.

"So, how come I've never met this boy before?" she interrogated, tending to the kettle.

"What do you mean?" Arthur headed to the underused coffee pot and pulled a mug from the upper cabinet just as he did the night prior.

"Arthur, I _know_ you're not a virgin," she came out, bluntly. Arthur clinked the array of cups in the cupboard as she mentions this, his hands flinched in surprised.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he unconvincingly denied.

"C'mon, you hang out with that French sleeze bag and never talk about your love life with me. Plus, you're a senior in high school."

"Okay, so you're right on that one," eyebrows admitted, starting the coffee pot.

"Hey, that's rare," his mother strayed from conversation. "You're drinking coffee?"

"No."

"Then why—"

He nodded his blond head towards the living room. "It's for him."

She gaped his mouth in comprehension and tended back to the tea kettle. Arthur finished the cup of dark slop and marched back into the kitchen, presenting it to the sandy haired boy.

"Here," Arthur forced. Alfred shakily took the mug and neared his face to catch the warm vapor. Arthur clenched his fists and gulped at what he thought to be the cutest thing ever to wake up to in the morning and ventured to his bedroom. He dug through his dresser drawers and unearthed his findings buried way beneath. The British hottie travelled his way back to the American and held the clothes outwith.

"What's that?" Alfred panned his lake water eyes up at Arthur,

"Do you need to shower?" Arthur asked.

"Yes?"

"Here're some clothes for the time being. And your other ones are washed. I put them in the bathroom for you."

Alfred blinked a few times and thanked, "Thanks, Arthur."

He gave an inaudible grunt as he went back to his bedroom to get dressed.

"Now," he began plotting as he pulled his head in the neck hole of his t-shirt. "All I have to do is figure out what I'm going to do with that ex-boyfriend of his."

* * *

"So did you hook up with that cutie I got for you last night?"

He held the phone a little tighter in grasp. "There's more to that 'cutie' than you first thought, Francis."

"What? Did he give you an STD? If so, you _totally_ deserve it and I want my twenty dollars you bet me in the tenth grade—"

"No, it's not _that_!" He turned his head to the side and muttered, "I need your help with something today."

"Pssh, whatever! But what am _I_ getting out of this?"

He clenched his fists and argued back, "Maybe you'll finally get your dignity back!"

"You're so _funny_, Arthur!" he laughed from the other line. "Can't lose what you never had!"

"Just," he darted his blond haired head around the corner and whispered back, "Just get over here, asshole."

"Sheesh, I'm getting there!"

* * *

"Okay, Alfred," Arthur gently urged, guiding the young boy by his arm. "Why don't we go somewhere?"

"Where?" his mother asked instead of Alfred.

"_Somewhere_, mother," Arthur sassed, already heading out the door, dragging the American by the wrist shortly after. "C'mon, Alfred."

"Where are we going?" he questioned, cocking his head, as they trudged outside the house.

The two seated themselves in the vehicle and Arthur waited to finish, "Just going for a ride."

Alfred sighed shakily and slumped in his seat, but didn't refuse. He stared out the window with a distant glaze over casting his eyes instead, Arthur worriedly checking over him.

"So, we can go somewhere after I run my errand," Arthur spoke up. "What do you usually do on Saturdays?"

"Work," Alfred muttered through the palm of his hand.

"Oh," Arthur paused. "Is there anything you'd like to _start_ doing on Saturdays?"

"Roller skating is kinda fun," he whispered a suggestion. "I haven't done that in years."

"Then we're going roller skating," Arthur affirmed, turning into an apartment complex parking lot. He turned the car off and faced the other boy. "I'm going in there for a minute and I'll be right out. Okay?"

Alfred elongated his neck to get a clearer view of where he was and queried, "But this is where _I_ live."

Arthur took the keys out of the ignition and rolled out of the vehicle, attesting, "Right you are."

The ash blond teenager closed the door, locking the car as he stared at the doe eyed cutie pie seated confusedly in the passenger seat. He paced to the main entrance where, appealing like a pedo flirt, stood Francis. His fingers twiddled his long bleached locks as Arthur made his approach.

"Oh, look who decided to show up," the Frenchman sassed with an unconvincing smirk on his face.

"Shut your trap, skeez," Brit insulted half meaningly. "Did you bring it?"

Francis passed his hand behind his back and pulled out a crowbar from the inside of his coat, smiling toothily, "Is he as dangerous as you say he is?" Francis asked.

"Yes, just don't ask questions," Arthur lead into the building, pressing all of the apartment number buzzers, hoping at least one would grant him permission inside. As accorded to plan, the glass double doors unlocked and the two entered.

Strutting down the hallways, the 'sleeze bag', as Arthur's often referred to him as, asked, "Are you sure we should be doing this, Arthur? I mean, can't Alfred come here and—"

Arthur paused dead in his tracks as soon as the Frenchman had stopped mid sentence and an evil smile grew on the face. Arthur noticed his friend's silence and took advantage of it.

"That's right, I never thought to ask you if you just so happened to know the boy you 'bought' for me last night is." Arthur whipped only his head around and finished, "But I think I have all I need now."

Francis shook his hands in innocence, "Look, you were telling me all of these things with Alfred and when I was driving home, there he was! And, you were the one who asked me for help! I was just hoping you couldn't tell the difference!"

"Well," Arthur fumbles, turning his whole body to Francis and contracted his fingers into his palms. "I _had_ to _have_ him!"

Francis laughed mockingly at the Brit as he turned his back and strutted down the hallway. He shrieked, "Let's just get his clothes and shit and get the fuck out of here!"

"Wait," the French boy paused his corrupted giggling. "You never explained to me why we're here."

Arthur proceeded down the extensive halls and curled his index finger in a beckoning fashion at Francis. "Haul your ass with that crowbar and I'll spill it!"

* * *

Arthur and Francis raced down the hallways and down the stairwell in escape. "Hurry up! Grab that bag and get your Frenchie ass in gear!"

"But it's so heavy! And I don't think I carry it all the way back to the parking lot without breaking something!" Francis whined, struggling with a few duffle bags.

"Unless you don't want to get caught, you'd better suck it the hell up! We're almost there!"

"Are you sure this isn't illegal!" he asked, barely keeping himself together as he ran.

"Just go with it!"

The two reach the car park and slow their running for more questions from the empty minded Frenchman. "But I don't know what to do!"

"I told you!" Arthur asserts, rushing to a dark blue car parked right beside his. "Shove it in your car and drive back to my place with it! Just go inside and put it all in my room!"

Francis did as he was told, tossing the items into his trunk and hurrying into the driver's seat. Arthur bumbled for his keyring and unlocked the crimson car, unveiling a concerned American cutie.

"Hey, what were you doing?" Alfred asked, craning his neck to get a look see at Francis' doings.

The shorter haired blond struggled with the ignition, panting, as he quickly started the car and roared onto the street. Keeping his eyes on the road ahead, Arthur answered, "We were just collecting some things."

Cowlick cocked his head and inquired, "_We?"_

"My friend Francis and I," he explained.

Starting to catch on, Alfred scoffed, "You were in my house."

"I'm aware of that."

"What were you doing in there?"

"So, how about roller skating?" Arthur quickly changed the subject.

Alfred huffed and bounced back in his seat, folding his arms like an immature first grader whose friend got to use the new crayons before him. Arthur advanced down the road, but took occasional glances at the incomparable head turner to his right.

"_God, he's some good looking eye candy,"_ Arthur thought, smirking suggestively. "_What I'd do to have a piece of him."_

The perverted Brit blinked and shook his head in disgust as the thought crossed his mind. "_No, I can't do that to him. He's too sensitive."_

Arthur looked back at the American once more and admired the way he was gazing out the window.

_What's up with you, Alfred F. Jones? Please don't let me be right this time._

* * *

_To be continued… _


	3. Chapter 3

"Hey, Alfred," Arthur called while tapping on the muscular American's shoulder. "Are you awake?"

The blonde boy snored and woke after a few more prods from the British boy. Alfred sputtered, "What is it?"

"It's Sunday," Arthur revealed, standing above him in a suit and tie.

Alfred jumped and stuttered, "Bu-But I don't go to church."

"Well, you're starting today."

Arthur grabbed the boy by the wrist, abducting him from the living room couch to his bedroom where he sat him down and rummaged through his closet.

"You're much bigger than me, so I'm not sure if anything I have would fit. Maybe in my dad's closet?"

"Sure, but you really don't have to take me," Alfred tried to reason with the Brit.

"And why not?"

"Because I don't deserve to be there."

Arthur enlarged his emeralds and reared his face closer to Alfred's, reiterating, "And why not?"

"You know why!" Alfred stood up, overlooking Arthur.

"Why?"

Alfred glared down at the boy and growled, "You're a pain in my ass, you know that?"

Arthur attached himself to Alfred's arm and strained his neck to look up at him, "But I'm _your_ pain in the ass."

"But I still don't have anything to wear," Alfred sighed, casually changing the topic.

"Hold on," Arthur's face had grown from asinine to sober as he let go of his arm and stalked off the his father's bedroom. He dug through the assorted dress shirts and blazers until his eyes fell upon the needed materials of the right sizing. He ran back to Alfred and presented him with clothes.

"Get dressed," he demanded.

Alfred stared at the outfit in hand and looked back at Arthur, standing patiently in front of him. As Arthur swayed back and forth on the heels of his shoes with his hands behind his back, Al cleared his throat, "Isn't there anywhere you have to be?"

"No," Arthur responded coolly.

"Can'tcha think of anyplace?"

"Nope."

Alfred glared, "Can you please _leave?_"

"Why would I do that?"

"Why _wouldn't_ you?"

"Because I want to watch you."

Alfred broke out into cute little giggles and hunched his back over in hysteria. "Th-That's cute. Now get out."

Alfred gently pushed the willing Arthur out of his own bedroom and closed the door behind him. The blond pouted his bottom lip and slid his bottom down the door to the floor, folding his arms like a child in time out. He rested the back of his head on the white barrier, as well, and snorted like a bull in frustration.

"_I think that's the first time I've heard him laugh like that," _Arthur thought. "_And just my luck, he's laughing _at _me, not _with _me."_

Soon after, Arthur felt the door move and before he knew it, he was lying on his back and gazing up at a bewildered Alfred.

Goldilocks walked over to his feet and offered his hand, "Here, I'll help you up."

Arthur blindly sacrificed his hand and experimented a sneaking suspicion he had. Alfred pulled up Arthur with single handedly, leaving the Brit in shock.

"You-You're strong," Arthur mumbled, believing he had picked him up that easily without his own assistance. Arthur smirked suggestively and brought his hands up to Alfred's chest, bringing his face by his ear and muttering, "I like that."

Alfred respired and reluctantly brought his hands on the other boy's waist, aggressively darting his eyes the other way and pouting his bottom lip. Arthur swiveled his head around and slid his arms around his neck. He rested his forehead on Alfred's and toyed with the back of his collar as he asked, "Whatcha wanna do after church?"

"Technically, I've only been dating you for two days, so you're off limits," Alfred reminded sarcastically. "And I'm sure I just wanna go home."

Arthur straightened his posture but kept his arms in the same position as he looked the boy in the eye and sighed, "Fine. But you're still staying here."

"Arthur! We're leaving!" Arthur heard his mother cry out from the living room, he figured. He removed his hands and bargained for a slight hand hold as he dragged Alfred into the empty living room.

"She must already be in the car," Arthur mumbled moodily. He glanced up at a less than amused Mr. Jones and smiled, catching the attention of the pissed off American.

"What?" Alfred retorts with a frown upon his face.

Arthur grins mischievously and, leaning up against Alfred arm, compliments, "You look very handsome."

The British Man looked up at the flustered boy and giggled, "What's wrong? Cat got your tongue?"

"No, nobody's ever told me that like that," Alfred started, making Arthur's heart leap.

The smaller boy coughed, "_Nobody?_ Are you _sure?_"

"Pretty sure," Alfred retained a day dreamy aspect. "But I don't believe you."

Arthur's heart stopped jumping for joy, and instead tripped into a ditch as the teen's words echoed repetitively, like if his head were a voluminous cave. "Well _I_ think so."

"Aren't we supposed to go out to the car?" Alfred advised, and Arthur observed as a stealthy method of changing topic.

Just as soon as the boy had spoken these words, a middle aged woman, dressed in a pink jumper and navy blue pencil skirt, came into the living room. Arthur quickly snatched his hand back and stood on his own two feet to avoid suspicion. The woman rushed to a candy dish on the armoire and selected a few pieces of jewelry to adorn herself in. As she slipped on a decorative ring as red as Alfred's cheeks, she asked the boys in that 'what're you up to' motherly tone of speak, "What were you two doing?"

"Nothing," Arthur lied.

"Then why aren't you in the car?" she added.

"I was looking for a different tie," Alfred jumped on the fib.

All of a sudden, Mrs. Kirkland's high heeled shoes clicked with her steps as she approached Alfred and wrapped her fingers around the boy's neck.

"Well, you forgot to fix your collar," she scolded. Arthur sighed a deep breath of relief as he took a glimpse at Alfred, who definitely wasn't selling it with that shade of red he adapted to wearing on a daily basis.

"Now, you look fine," Arthur's mother concluded as she shooed, "The both of you, in the car. Now."

* * *

Arthur reared his head closer to Francis to ensure his whispers wouldn't be heard as he hushed, "Look how adorable he is! Can you even _believe_ that when I told he was handsome, he disagreed with me! "

"Do you think there's a double meaning to that?" Frenchie looked down at his significantly shorter friend.

"What do you mean?" Arthur held his pink tinted cheeks in his palms as his eyes remained on the American talking with his parents a few pews ahead of them.

"Nevermind," he brushed off.

"_Tell_ me!" Arthur's aspect grew more panicky as he urged, "What's wrong with my Alfie!"

Francis silently chuckled, "Your _what?_"

"My Alfie," he repeated, with a little more embarrassment in his voice this time.

He roared with laughter as he asked, "Does 'Alfie' know of his pet name?"

"Well, he _will_," Arthur confessed unconvincingly. "Now, tell me!"

Francis bent his knees to get to the Brit's short stature and confided, "Ask him what he thinks of himself. But do it on the down low, you get where I'm coming from?"

"What?" Arthur exaggerated, brows raised.

"Just do it and tell me what he says."

Arthur glared back up and accused, "Are you saying that he has some kind complex?"

"Well," Francis rubbed the back of his neck, "just _look_ at him!"

Arthur's eyes fell upon the boy in question once more. "What's _wrong_ with him!"

"Come on, you can't be that dense," the long haired teen assaulted, cutting his dark cerulean eyes frustratedly. "Don't you remember how he was when you brought him home a few days ago?"

"Okay, so he's kinda a wreck. So what? I can fix him!" Arthur tightened his fists up by his chest.

"Unless you're Bob the Builder, I don't think you can fix that mess."

"You know, I'm getting _real _sick of your attitude."

The long blond threw his arms to present the boy, "You're being really selfish with him!"

Arthur clicked his tongue and defended, "I can't help to be anything _but_ selfish! I've been fawning over that boy for months and goddammit, I'm going to have my way with him!"

"See? That's what I mean by being selfish!"

"I prefer the term, 'protective', thank you very much."

"Why do you need to be?" Francis amplifies, "He seems happier without your help, Arthur."

"I think there's something else going on," Arthur reveals. "I believe he's lying to me about something."

"What?"

"He's told me that he has a boyfriend tha—" Arthur paused, realizing he made an error. Francis gaped his mouth open and widened his eyes whilst Arthur cleared his throat proudly, "I'm sorry. _Had_ a boyfriend."

"You total slut!" Francis smacked the boy on the bicep and included, "I wouldn't have went through with your little scheme if I knew he was dating someone! And you made him go out with you, you're terrible!"

"I think there's something wrong with that ex boyfriend of his and I'm determined to figure it out. I can't stand having to watch something horrible happen to that pretty face again."

"Again? What are you talking about!" Francis requested, frustrated.

He points to the crowd of churchgoers and dismissed, "I'll call you and tell you later, look who's coming."

Arthur's face sprouted a smile and his arms opened as he approached the staggeringly tall boy, leaving Francis standing lone and dumbstruck. Arthur paused for a second to check behind Alfred for his parents' presence, but disdained his suspicions. He coiled his arms around the bigger boy's neck and embraced him.

"Hi, Alfred," Arthur sighed as said Alfred hunched his back over due to the great difference in height. He placed his hands on Arthur's lower back and hugged him back, still not saying a word, as the Brit lifted his leg up behind him. He continued, "What did you think of church? Didn't you say that you haven't gone to a service in a couple years?"

"Yeah, and it was as boring as I remember it," Alfred responded, letting go of the smaller adolescent. Arthur checked behind Alfred again and the sandy blond looked, as well. "What?"

"Nothing, it's just," Arthur grabbed the boy's arm to beg for the return of his attention. "What were my parents talking to you about?"

"They were askin' who I was and how I know you," Alfred answered. He shrugged, "The same stuff they wanted to know since yesterday."

"Where are they now?" Arthur squinted into the distance.

"Oh, they're talkin' to someone in the other room."

"Okay, then come here for a minute," Arthur motioned his hands down.

Alfred bent down as Arthur grabbed him by the collar and kissed him quickly on the lips. Although it was probably only a couple of seconds, it felt like forever to Arthur. Alfred chuckled nervously and stood straight up, where Arthur surely couldn't do it again.

"You think you're really cute, don't you?" he whispered, sounding half serious, half jovial.

"I've always wanted to have a gay kiss in a church," Arthur related. He folded his arms and look up at the seemingly forever blushing boy, "And what? You didn't seem to have a problem with it yesterday."

Alfred shifted to an even deeper shade of crimson and defended, "Wait, I told you yesterday was a mistake!"

"Yeah, let's ignore Francis and leave him the dark about _everything_," Francis pouted, making his presence and sarcastic desire to be informed known.

"I don't wanna tell him what happened," Alfred whined, shooting his eyes down at Arthur.

"So we were roller skating," Arthur revealed, nonetheless. "And at the end of our date, I kissed him."

"So?" Francis scoffed.

"Aw, _don't_ tell him the last part!" Alfred pleaded, grabbing the boy's wrist in a desperate manner.

Arthur smirked devilishly and defied his wishes, "And the best part was he kissed me back. Like, I backed up and he leaned in again." He smiled up at the blushing boy and finished, "And it wasn't a short one, either."

"Heat of the moment!" Alfred withstood his case, releasing the teen's hand and clenching his fists by his sides. "It was the heat of the moment!"

"Too late," Arthur said with an evil smile.

"Arthur! Are you and your friend ready to go?" Mr. and Mrs. Kirkland meet with the trio at the church exit. Francis' eyes grew to the size of the moon and he patted on the boy's arm.

"Excuse us," Arthur escorts Francis away from the group and left Alfred in the uncomfortable presence of his uptight parents. Once out of hearing range, Arthur hissed, "What the hell do you want?"

"Your parents don't know that the stranger you brought home is your _boyfriend_ now?" he stressed.

"Well, not _exactly_," Arthur squinted his eyes in hesitance.

"Arthur!" his mother called as she dragged her husband out of the church entrance. "We _do_ have other things to do today."

"Look, just call me later, okay? That is," he glanced back at the innocent looking stud and finished, "if I'm not _preoccupied_."

Francis rolled his eyes as Arthur chuckled raspily and strutted back to the object of his affections. He croaked, "_Couples."_

Alfred defended fidgety. "I, uh. W-We're not dating! _Really!_"

"Don't be _shy_, Al," Arthur disregarded. "It's only _Francis_."

The Frenchman scoffed, "_Limey."_

* * *

Alfred lay sprawled across Arthur's bed with a comic book in hand and his feet swaying playfully in the air. The ash blond boy rested his head on the American's back and began to pester him.

"Hey, Alfie," he nicknamed. 'Alfie' looked back at him with eyebrows raised and nonverbally initiating a continuance in conversation. Arthur questioned, "What're you doing?"

"Reading," Alfred muttered less than enthusiastically.

"At least you have your glasses now, right?" Arthur acknowledged, pawing at the American's spectacles on his face. Alfred leaned farther away from the foreigner and Arthur frowned at his failed attempt.

"It seems like you're ignoring me," Arthur confessed in a whiney tone of speak.

"And what if I am?" Alfred asked back sarcastically.

Arthur repositioned himself so, instead of only his head lying on the larger kid, it was his entire body. Alfred took an immediate dislike to the Brit lying on his back and attempted to shoo him off. This, of course, only lead to Arthur wrapping his arms around Alfred's neck and resting his head comfortably in between the teen's neck and shoulder.

"Jesus Christ, Arthur," Al complained. "Get off of me!"

"Why?" Arthur responded coolly.

"What if your parents walk in! How're ya gonna get out of that!"

"Don't care," he bantered.

"You _will_."

"Doesn't matter."

"Yes it does," Alfred sassed, going back to his reading. Arthur sighed and rolled off of him, but continued to harass him.

"What're you reading?" he decided on conversation material.

"Captain America," Alfred answered in his next breath.

Arthur flipped back onto his stomach to get a better look at the comic and marvelled, "Who's that?"

Alfred gasped, "You don't know who Captain America is?"

Arthur shook his head and scooted himself with his elbows closer to the teen. "Not really. Tell me."

Alfred smiled, "He's the best superhero _ever!_ He's a part of the Avengers, technically the _first_ Avenger, and his real name is Steve Rogers…"

Honestly, Arthur didn't care much for comic books or superheroes. He couldn't care less about the whole ordeal, to say in the least. He was just satisfied that he got Alfred to talk openly to him, no matter how boring the topic. He didn't even seem to mind when Arthur lifted his feet in the air, mirroring Alfred actions, and casually toyed his large feet with his own during their conversation. Arthur observed the American's elated smile as he rambled on about Marvel Comics, or whatever the Hell he was babbling about.

"Captain America's probably the _best_ person _ever!_" Alfred praised. Arthur felt a little let down at the remark that he wasn't his first pick, but rather a fictional character. "He's awesome!"

"You know, he kinda looks like you," Arthur pointed out, glancing at the page and back at his boyfriend.

"Yeah, I can see with the hair and eyes," Alfred agreed. "But other than that, we have nothing in common."

Arthur contradicted, "I don't think so."

"What'dya mean?" he asked, his eyes directed at the other boy.

Arthur felt his blood rush to his cheeks as Alfred's eyes looked straight into his. _Damn, those eyes were going to be the death of him._ He confessed, "I think you're better."

Those perfect eyes left Arthur's and returned to the book as their owner chuckled jokingly, "Yeah right."

"But I'm being serious," Arthur muttered hastily. He noticed that the other's ears had tinted themselves pink and his much redder face was buried in the book in embarrassment. Arthur patted the American's back reassuringly and giggled, "You're so _adorkable_." Alfred's shoulders hid his now reddened earlobes as Arthur laughed, "I'm just kidding with you!"

"Yeah, you'd _better_ be," Alfred mumbled childishly through his comic book, leading Arthur to laugh his ass off, yet again.

"God, you're adorable," he muttered to piss off the boy, serving its purpose well.

Alfred blushed and called, "Cut that out!"

* * *

_To be continued… _


	4. Chapter 4

"Hey, whatcha wanna do later?" Alfred asked meekly as his eyes scanned his comic book.

Arthur's heart filled with glee at the sudden and uninfluenced invitation as he answered, "I dunno. We can decide now, though." The ocean eyed teen mumbled in compliance and proceeded reading his childish literature. Arthur cleared his throat and suggested, "Anything on your mind?"

"There _is_ somewhere I haven't been in a long time," Alfred smiled, magazine held down.

Arthur lit up with excitement. _Maybe this is my chance._ "Cool. I'll take us there after school."

The boys retained their previous dispositions at the lunch table; Arthur on his cell phone and Alfred reading. Arthur felt the connection between them weaken as they continued their independent activities. Fed up with the silence, Arthur asked, "S-so. Where are we going, exactly?"

"Uh," Alfred shifted to an alarming shade of pink. "There's a building I used to go to a lot. Once we go there, it'll make more sense."

Arthur raised an eyebrow at the American cutie and muttered, "Okay."

* * *

"Look, I told you what happened," Arthur overheard someone on the phone as he was walking past. He immediately picked it up as his sweetheart, and dodged from eyesight by hiding behind the wall in which Alfred was on the otherside. "It isn't my fault. He took me home and now he takes care of me. Better than you ever did or could."

Arthur pursed his lips in deep concentration. _Who is he talking to?_ His question was answered as Alfred's ambiguous phone call continued. "I told you, I'm done with you. I've wanted nothing to do with you for _years_, now."

_Is he on the phone with Nathaniel?_ He whispered quaintly, "_That son of a bitch." _The British teenager kept both ears open for any possible inferences as Alfred proceeded.

"Whatever. But when I say I'm _done_ this time, I _mean_ it." Arthur perked up as Alfred ended his phone call and came from around the wall.

"Oh," Alfred jumped, looking down at Arthur with widened eyes as he was playing his Android back into his pocket. "Sorry I didn't wait for ya after class, Arthur."

"It's alright, I'll live," Arthur okayed. He began walking alongside Alfred, looking up at him with a smile spread across his face. Alfred took notice and wriggled his eyebrows in a perplexed manner.

"Why're ya lookin' at me like that?" the American questioned, his top teeth uncovered in an amused smirk. The two ventured out from under the stone villa and onto the grass while Arthur's fingers grasped for Alfred's. Much to his surprise, Al only chuckled, and didn't take his hand back. "That's cute."

"Apparently you seem to think so," Arthur playfully argued. "Or else you wouldn't be going out with me."

"That's true," Alfred agreed, staring up into the afternoon sky. He shifted his burly palm to cover the Brit's smaller one, and made Arthur's heart skip a beat. Yet, somehow, he found he wasn't satisfied. Arthur searched for an explanation deep within him, but to no avail. He knitted his eyebrows and stole the attention of his partner.

"So, do ya want me to tell ya where we're goin', or you want it to be a surprise?" Alfred unbeknowingly brought Arthur back from outer space.

"Uh, I'm," Kirkland stuttered. "W-What is it? A shop, or something?"

"No, it isn't anymore."

Arthur lifted a brow and said, "Now I'm really curious. Make it a surprise." He winked, "Just like you."

Al blushed with his bottom lip sticking out in immature verbal combat, "Shut up."

* * *

"Is _this_ where you meant?" Arthur peered his head around the bend for a clearer view.

Alfred practically jumped from his seat and reassured, "Yeah! Just park here!"

Arthur obeyed and before he could even fully stop the vehicle, Al stumbled out and clumsily ran towards the shady looking, lone building. Arthur reluctantly followed him across the grassy and forgotten parking lot, tiptoeing the whole way through. Alfred was nowhere to be seen, angering the Brit that he would have to find him by himself.

"Hey, c'mere, slow poke!" Alfred came from a shadowed corner. Arthur ran straight for him so he wouldn't get lost again, and the American snatched him by the wrist.

"Where the hell are we?" Arthur mumbled.

Much to his dismay, Alfred released Arthur's wrist and began wandering over the building floors. He soon determined the abandoned place to once be a barber's shop, made evident by the destroyed revolving chairs.

He scrolled his green eyes around the place and his other arm reached for one to hold, but came up with nothing. Alfred was gazing around the place like a kid in a candy store, only then was Arthur certain for his reaction.

"Are these paintings?" Arthur inquired as he craned his neck up at the ceilings and around at the walls. "Are these even real?"

Alfred shook his head proudly and proclaimed, "Yea! And they're all done by me!"

Arthur couldn't believe what he was hearing. His Alfie was an artist. And a _damn_ good one, at that. These seemingly random paintings were scrawled all around the walls with a modern impressionist-realistic style being the only thing stringing them together.

He gasped in astonishment, "Alfred, these are so…"

"Huh?" the artist finally picked up, swaying his shoulders back.

"Amazing," Arthur found the right word, but still not be enough. "Actually, more than amazing."

"You really think so?" Alfred's grin metamorphosed into something greater to Arthur: a smile.

"Yes," the Englishman admitted. "You're so much more talented than I first thought."

As Arthur came closer, Alfred turned his body towards him, "Whaddya mean by that?"

"I mean it makes me wonder why you ever lived like you did." Jones quirked a brow, his mouth slightly agape. "You have all the potential in the world, and it's repressed."

"Huh?"

"Like forcing a butterfly to a cage, for it's beauty to be hidden from the world," he had begun to space out.

Alfred walked up to Arthur, one hand grasping his upper arm, and the backside of the other pressed against his forehead. "Are you sick?"

The pale teenager laughed it off, "No! I was just babbling!" The athletic one let go of him and shrugged, but was halted by Kirkland. "Hey, I didn't say you could let go."

Al smiled halfway and gave in to his wishes. Arthur stood on the ball of his feet, extending his height as much as he could, and coiled his arms around the American's neck. He thought to himself about how a couple weeks prior, Alfred barely even knew his name. And now his wildest dreams had came true.

The only thing that concerned Arthur now was the speed of their bonding, and what was to become of them. Were they to crash and burn? Would they even last a month? It crippled the Brit to even think of such possibilities. The last thing he wanted to do was to let him go.

Then again, he didn't want to keep him if he didn't want to stay. The more he thought about it, the more it seemed like the whole situation would be a never ending cycle of heart breaks.

"Hey, what's bothering you?" Alfred snapped him out of his trance. Arthur shook his head to metaphorically clear his thoughts and the other inquired, "Are you sure?"

He laughed, "Positive! Now, can you tell me more about your drawings?"

"Sure!" Alfred posed his hands on his hips and proudly puffed out his chest. "Art is like a getaway for me. Whenever something goes wrong, I always find myself here."

Arthur glanced meekly up at his fading enthusiasm. "And as you can tell by how much is here, everything used to go wrong."

"What do you mean?"

The athletic teenager exhaled a drawn out, frustrated breath, and clarified, "Nothing ever went right for me. At school or at home. I used to think things were never gonna get better, so I painted whenever things got like that."

Arthur revolved his neck around to more closely analyze the loose mural, and he asked, "You painted what you felt?"

"Yeah," Alfred brushed past his partner to approach a cooler colored section of the masterpiece. His chiseled fingers dragged on the masked brick wall, and he demonstrated, "Like here. I painted this when I was a sophomore. It's kinda sad looking, because a lot of bad things happened in tenth grade."

"Like what?" the Englishman swayed over to his side, his hands held behind his back to display his willingness.

"Well, _you_ already figured it out," Alfred half jokingly furrowed his brow down at him, the blond tinged with shame and embarrassment. "But that was when Nathaniel started acting different towards me. He wasn't _mean_, per say. Just, acted kinda… cold."

Al stretched his neck back as he observed more of the painting that had scrawled its way from the walls to the slightly stable ceiling. "It was a pretty dark time, I think the lowest I've ever reached."

"Can you tell me?" Arthur held his hand for a more honest answer.

He ran his fingers through his sunny blond hair, "I was introduced to a lot of 'exotic' things when I was about sixteen. Well," he hesitated, "'introduced' is a bit of an exaggeration."

"Forced?" Arthur suggested, knowing all too well the outcome of this conversation.

"Yeah, and needless to say, it was the start if my, 'job'," he made quotations with his free fingers.

"Tell me."

Alfred took his eyes off the drawings and focused them down at the other blond. "You really wanna know, huh?"

Arthur shook his head and confessed, "Well, I should, right?"

He quirked his eyebrows and huffed, "Fair enough."

Alfred walked over to one of the spider webbed infested corners of the building, and Arthur followed out of curiosity. He propped himself up against the beat up barber's chair. The Englishman did not think twice before hopping right by his partner's side, to comply to any standard the American would consider.

As Arthur shuffled his feet in wary anticipation, the other teenager raised a correcting finger, and bargained, "I'll tell you the story, just as long as you keep it a secret. Okay?"

He recalled that night when he threatened Alfred that he would tell the whole school what he had done for a living if he did not go out with him. Arthur cringed at the disturbing thought; just another lie their relationship was built upon. Flat out blackmail, and there was no other term for it.

He shook his head and opened his ears to maximum capacity, awaiting to be filled with tales of the cutie's previous life. He worried if he seemed too desperate, but… Well, who wouldn't want to know? The only worry there would be if he would use this new information against him in the future. Just like he did about a month ago.

"Alright then," Alfred snapped him back to reality. He grabbed Arthur's hand a little tighter. His tone became childish, "But I'm only tellin' you this because I like you, got that?"

He rolled his green eyes, "Alright! Go on!"

Alfie smiled and released the smaller adolescent's hand, much to his agitation. He, instead, used his free hand to play tour guide to the mural. "Over here, this part of the wall with red and pink paints, was the year I met Nathaniel."

Arthur felt his blood boil with raging jealousy just as he spoke that name. The mysterious background of the name, the unsure things the name had done (or could have done) to his Alfred. It made him want to find this 'Nathaniel', and beat the living shit out of him.

"He was really nice and sweet to me, and I really fell for it," his pitch wavered mid sentence. The Englishman felt such remorse for him, catching him completely out of character. "If there was ever a time to get out of that relationship, that was when I should've ran."

The ash blond felt a few of his closest heartstrings strummed out of tune. He could not explain why he felt this way; if anyone else had told him this sob story, he would not have shed even a single tear of sympathy. What was different here? Was his exceedingly developed crush on the boy misleading him?

"And over here," Alfred brought his palm to the bluesy portion, "was when I started 'working', as I said before."

"And you mentioned that your," he paused, almost impotent to saying the name, searched for a substitution, "_ex_ made you do that."

Al nodded, and elaborated, "I remember clearly the night I lost my virginity, actually. It was probably what caused all of this."

His blue eyes melted as he exhaled, "I was pressured into a really awkward situation at a party he took me to."

"Which was…?"

He closed his eyes and strung the words in a hushed sentence, "He forced me to have sex with a strange man and taped it."

Arthur, taken aback, gasped. Alfred smiled, and disclosed, "That… felt good. I've never told anyone that."

"W-Well, I'm glad I'm the first," Arthur stuttered.

He pondered, but what else was he supposed to say? "_No, honey. Your sexual background isn't alarming at all. It doesn't matter to me how many freaks you've went down on, and I'm not one of them."_

Alfred, now a little more confident than before, continued, "He also always made me have threesomes with his friends and recorded it. And I had to have weird sex with old men and to do so much creepy foreplay shit."

Arthur felt his eyebrow flinch as he went on, "And I he beat me up on a regular basis, and I had to sell myself out, or I wasn't allowed home at night. I would have to spend the night with a client, and they usually were really scary and I didn't like to be by them 'cause they were kinda gross."

Arthur kept listening to Alfred's confessions, and he could not, more like, refused to believe what he was listening to. Unadmittedly, he felt a little uneasy around his love with this new faith. He couldn't help but wonder where exactly the hands he'd been holding were doing, or the lips he was kissing have been.

Although it was honest curiosity, he felt guilty for thinking so. Still, he was grateful that those hands and lips had somehow managed to find their way to him.

"Oh! I almost forgot," Alfred recalled. He presented his right pinkie finger, "Pinkie promise me? You won't tell anyone? Please?"

Arthur locked his littlest appendage onto Al's, and they shook on it. "Right, you have my word."

"You're supposed to say you pinkie promise!" the childish teenager corrected. Arthur chuckled and hung his head, but he persisted, "Do it!"

"I pinkie promise," he guaranteed. Alfie nodded his head, an a expression of determination slowly faded away as ease replaced it.

Hazel eyed got an idea, and he reached his other pinke to latch to Alfred's remaining one. He used minimal strength to pull Jones closer, and gives him a light kiss. Arthur felt the boy's lips curve to a smile, as he puckered them to demonstrate affection received. Well received.

When they pulled out, Alfred's flustered and ginning face declared, "And, I think I kinda like you, Arthur Kirkland."

"And I'd say it's about time, Alfred F. Jones," he replied back with a giggle. They shared a long embrace in celebration, and Arthur could not help but to feel like he was living the happiest he ever had been.

"And you know," Alfie took a deep breath in and rubbed his hands over the Brit's back, "you're also my best friend."

"Really?" Arthur was groggy from the overload of attention and affection.

Alfred heaved and unexpectedly picked Arthur up, exclaiming, "Yes you are!"

The punk recoiled, and wrapped his dangling limbs around any free area of the tanned boy's body. He laughed and swayed his neck back to get face to face. "I've never had a best friend before."

"Really?" he said rhetorically, and instead concentrating on the task of not falling over backwards.

"Yeah," he answered. Alfie released the teen, but remained in close proximity of him. "Do you want to go home to and read comic books?"

Arthur's initial response was, 'over my dead body', but he patted his arm, and bartered it for, "Sure."

* * *

Arthur pulled his cellphone from his back pocket he closed his bedroom door, and peered around the hallway corners to ensure privacy from parents or Alfred. He waited for the other line to pick up.

"_Bonjour, mon ami!"_ Francis greeted. "_What's up, buttercup?"_

Arthur fiddled with the longer locks of hair resting on his forehead, "Hey, can I ask you something?"

"_What's going on?"_ he caught on. "_Is it about Alfred?"_

"Yeah," Arthur exhaled. He brought his brow to a point, and traced his fingers down his scalp. "I've come across a problem, or so."

"_What do you mean?"_

"Um, well. Do you remember my original 'intentions' with him?"

Francis cackled his trademark laugh and remarked, "_Oui! Did you do it yet? Is his ass as great as you thought it was?"_

"That's the issue," Arthur lowered his voice and peeked into the hallway again. "I can't do those things."

"_What's wrong?"_ his tone became cautious.

"I have to be careful with him," Arthur launched his potential speech. "_Very_ careful."

"_What did I tell you? I've been waiting since sophomore year, I want my twenty dollars."_

"Will you shut up about that!" he growled. "Can we both admit we were both piss drunk when we made that pact!"

"_Mon dieu, I'm just teasing! Keep going!"_

He puffed, "He's had a lot of 'unpleasant' past 'encounters', if you catch my drift."

"_Well, duh! I was the one who bought him off the goddamn streets for you! Do you know how intimidating that must have been?_

"Yeah, well. Imagine that intimidation so overwhelming, you couldn't possibly endure it. And that was an average day for him."

There was a staticy silence. "_Are you serious?"_

"Pretty serious."

A longer pause in Francis' part. "_Oh, I understand now." _

"Yeah, so," he released a sigh to make time to think. "I guess I have to be 'kinder' to him."

"_Oui, very kind."_

There was a silent stand off, until Arthur included, "But, you know, he's worrying me so much."

"_Don't tell me you've started it this soon."_

"He's the only thing I can think about!" he argued. "What am I supposed to do? I can't get him off my mind!"

"_Arthur,"_ Francis reasoned. "_You always do this. You set your sights on an impossible love affair, and you obsess over them until you get sick of them!"_

"Obsessing is the only way I can get over it!"

"_I'm just saying. What if Alfred's 'the one'? Would you want to rush that, and potentially lose him?"_

Arthur took a long breath, and concurred, "No, I guess not."

"_Right! Just promise me you'll go slow with him?"_ he requested.

"Okay, I'll calm down." His tone picked up, "But only for Alfred, and not because you told me to."

* * *

Arthur widened his eyelids open and jolted upright, face to face with the moonlit wall in front of his bed. He panted and rubbed his eyes, whispering, "Why can't I sleep?"

He felt a strange presence beside him, an unnatural looming darkness. Kirkland slowly turned his head to the side of the mattress and confronted a towering shadow, who was halfway into the bed with a part of the blanket in his fist. Arthur jerked back and clambered to the other side and the stranger bounced a palm to his mouth.

"_Shh!" _Alfred warned with fear glinted in his eyes. "Your parents are still home! I can't let them know!"

Frightened, Arthur quieted immediately, although his heart rate and breathing escalated rather quickly. Alfred calmed down and removed his hand, and the Brit questioned, "What're you doing here?! Why are you in my—"

Alfred had successfully crawled into the boy's bed and he lurched his body onto the other's more fragile one, his strapping arms binded around him. Arthur tried to squirmed away from the surprise embrace, but resulted in the both of them collapsing onto the pillows.

"Alfred, what are you doing!" the Brit hissed. "You're acting really strangely!"

Cutie repositioned his head on his shoulder and moaned, "I needed to see you."

"In the middle of the night? This is ridiculous!" Arthur sat back up and eventually pushed the bigger man off of him. "You have to leave!"

Alfred responded by wrapping his arms around the teenager again. "Please, let me stay."

Arthur's face flushed profusely and he denied, "No, you can't stay here! What if my parents come in?"

Al fell back to the mattress, Arthur's body too tired to retaliate, and he took a few unnerving breaths until he requested, "Five more minutes. Please?"

"But you're going to fall asleep here," Artie argued. "And you won't be able to stay here if my parents catch me, they'd be livid! Especially my dad!"

"So your mom's cool with it?" he made himself comfortable by kicking the blankets around, arms still snaked around him.

"Of course not," Arthur's eye lids began to droop the further he explained, Alfred's already closed. "She doesn't seem to care, or want to talk about it with me. My dad, on the other hand…"

He tilted his head to see if the boy had fallen asleep on him, but the action was rendered moot when he mumbled, "Go on."

The blond considered continuing, until he made the realization. "Hey, I know what you're doing! Don't try to distract me! Why don't you tell me why you're even here?"

Alfred brought his brows to a point, and whined, "Why won't you let me sleep here? Just go on with your story, I'm listening."

Arthur wiggled his way through his unbreaking grip, but Al only squeezed him tighter. He protests, "Why are you doing this! How come you can't sleep in your own room?"

"Because…"

The American moved his forehead onto his chest, and dragged his fingers down his back. "You had me so worried. I thought something bad happened to you."

Arthur experienced an odd chill run through him, and he successfully pushed the larger man off. Alfred batted his eyes and sat up, clearly in shock.

"What was that for?" he rubbed the side of his face. A stream of light radiated from the window behind him, casting strategic shadows on Alfred's preexisting chiseled features. Arthur crawled backwards and fought temptation, his breathing growing erratic.

Alfred reached a hand out to Arthur's knee, and he spoke low, "Why're you doing that?"

The Englishman shook his head and tried to back up a little more. Alfie tried to lighten his mood as he laughed and placed his other palm on his remaining knee. Arthur sensed false promiscuity in his gut, and when he tried a final time to sway back, he fell straight to the floor.

"_Shit!"_ he muttered audible enough to be heard by outsiders. Alfred jumped to the other side of the bed, and peered over the edge.

"Ar-Are you okay?" the sunny haired blond asked, as he used his upper body strength to crawl down to the adolescent.

Arthur wiped his eyes, crossed his legs, and assured, "I'm alright."

Al mimicked his sitting position and ran his shaking hands all over the punk. "Are you sure? Nothing hurts?" He grabbed for his wrist, "Did you break anything?"

The athletic boy smiled as Arthur chuckled, "No, I'm fine. Trust me."

Just then, a series of footsteps were within earshot of the couple, and before any of the two could speak, a woman cracked open the door.

"Boys? Was that you just now?" Arthur's mother sighed as she fingered her eyelids. She blinked until her vision was clear enough, and was presented to her son and supposed roommate. "Is that Alfred? What're you two doing?"

"Uh, yeah," the accused party, and Arthur, rose to make his defense. "I was just in here to…"

She raised her eyebrows in aroused suspicion, and folded her arms to add to the tension. "To…?"

"I had a bad dream," Alfred blurted out childishly. Arthur sensed a current of panic knock him to his knees.

Why on Earth would anyone believe that? A seventeen year old coming to sleep with his not-so-secret-boyfriend because of a _nightmare?_ Arthur wasn't buying this bullshit, and apparently, neither was his mother.

"Really?" Mrs. Kirkland's tone morphed into something serious. Her son began to worry immensely. Was she going to kick Alfred out? Where else would he even go? He was not going back to play punching bag to that asshole of an ex, that was for sure.

Arthur closed his eyes and prayed under his breath, as his mother continued the interrogation, each passing second being as unbearable as the next.

"Yes, really," the tanned one stood his ground. "And I got scared, so I came to my best friend."

There he went using that word again. _Best friend._ It almost calmed the limey's nerves. It would have, if it wasn't for his mom's thriving pressure, a softie like Alfred was sure to crack soon enough.

"And you thought that was a good idea at one thirty in the morning?" she played her Ace. Arthur glanced over at the digital alarm resting on his nightstand, and the time was indeed, one thirty six in the morning. When he looked back, his parent had already planted a smirk on her lips.

"Yes, I did," he admitted, holding his hands behind his back. Arthur tilted his head down and appealed for God's mercy once again; who was ever going to believe them, especially her? He kept reciting for at least his father's presence to stay at bay. He was the _last_ thing he needed.

"Why were you on the floor?" she maintained further investigation. "It didn't seem too 'innocent' to me."

"It would be inappropriate to lay in bed with him while he was sleeping," the American surprisingly made a comeback. "And I was talking to him, hoping that would calm me down."

Arthur felt overwhelmed with self-righteousness as he lifted his head back up from the rain clouds and at his mother. Her argument seemed to collapse all on its own, made evident by her constant readjusting of her body language.

She huffed, "Fine, I don't care. But, Arthur," she pointed, "you know the rules."

The bedroom was once again concealed, and the pair let out pent up breaths of alleviation. Arthur stood up, "Consider yourself lucky! We almost got our asses kicked!"

"Yeah, no shit," Al cursed. "I was afraid I was going to blow the whole thing over, and get us both in trouble."

Arthur approximated and tugged at the taller one's fingers. "Yeah, I thought that whole lie about the bad dream wasn't going to pass by her."

"I wasn't lying about that," he confessed. "I _did_ have a bad dream, and that's why I came in here."

He cocked his head, "Are you serious?"

Blondie confirmed in a nod, and Arthur developed concern. Although, he stuck out his bottom lip and asked in a sarcastic manner, "Was the monster under your bed going to get you?"

"No, nothing like that!" Alfie slothly hissed in denial. He released a small yawn, and slowly closed his watery eyes.

Arthur caught the hint and, against his better judgement, lead his partner to the empty bed. He blanketed the covers over his legs, and Alfred burrowed beside him. He popped his blond head out, and collected the sheets around his neck, which made Arthur smile graciously.

Al curled into a ball and and the Englishman banned, "Woah, what do you think _you're_ doing?"

"I think I deserve another five minutes, right?" he exhaled as he rested his sea blue eyes. "My visit was interrupted."

His hazel eyes teen gave in, and he placed his head under the muscular one's chin. Alfred's breath traveled on Arthur's scalp, a feeling that now he was introduced, he needed like drug. His body set into total serenity, and his muscles relaxed as his state of fatigue gradually converted him.

"Hey, Arthur?" the blond disrupted Arthur's fragile connection to slumber. He cracked his eyes open and mumbled. Al's breath hitched again, "What's with the teddy bear?"

He stretched his eyelids back and sprang up, Alfred's arms still dangling on to his midsection. Arthur looked off his side of the bed, and the American whined. He flipped over to the other side and leaning, more like pushing, Alfred's weight difference in order inspect the floor for his oh-so-beloved toy.

"Where the hell is it!" he complained as he pointlessly squinted around the ground. "How did you know about it!"

"It's on the floor," he revealed. Alfred sat up as Arthur did the opposite, and reached down to the bed frame. He came up with a stuffed bear outfitted with a bouncy crimson bow, and conferred, "This?"

Arthur snatched the plaything, and held it tight between his crossed arms and haughty chest. Judging from how Alfred plopped back onto the bed with that unduly satisfied expression worn on his face, he predicted the boy's intentions until morning.

"Alfred, you can't sleep here," he forbade as he continued cuddling with the bear.

The metallicy blond propped his torso up with his elbow, and he smoothed his fingers over his eyelids. "Is that what your mom meant by the 'rules'?"

"Yes," he peeked out from behind the teddy, and down at Alfred's amazing anatomy. He felt the blood rush to his cheeks as he reviewed how his blankets draped over the youth's prominent hips, and his eyes were forced away. "I think it'd be best if you went back to your room."

Alfie abruptly came behind the smaller teen, and placed a hand over Arthur's. His deceiving heart felt like it stopped pumping blood, and it caused his breathing to cease. He asked for permission, "Can I bring the bear with me?"

Disappointment flooded through Arthur's being again as he handed over the toy, and deferred, "Fine, take it."

He gave the doll a quick squeeze as Arthur folded his arms and legs to commence pouting. His teddy bear was getting more attention than him and, for Christ's sake, he was in the _same_ _bed_ as Alfred! When was another opportunity like this going to repeat itself?

He dreaded that they would not even last a year, unlike his relationship with Michelle. If he could stay unhappy with someone for that long, how long would he manage with somebody he'd certainly be satisfied with?

While he sulked, he felt an arm that came out of nowhere embrace him from the side, and a pair of lips pecked his temple.

"Thanks, Artie," Jones thanked as he climbed out of the mattress. Astonished, Arthur froze for a few seconds, but came to when the strapping juvenile was just about to exit.

"Wait a second!" he spit and threw himself out of bed for him. Arthur felt for Alfie's remaining hand as he gazed up, "Is that all I get?"

"Whaddya mean?" he raspily chuckled. Just by the smirk Alfred wore on that perfect mouth of his, Arthur trusted his knew what he wanted.

"My bear is very near and dear to me," his accent grew increasingly sarcastic. "Do you really think I would just hand it over without getting something in return?"

His brows quirked, "Like what?"

"You know what," he hung out in a long breath, a smirk outfitted alongside. Alfred released a breathy laugh, and leaned down to give him a short kiss goodnight.

"Night, Artie," he bade farewell. Arthur grinned, and staggered behind the American dream as he showed him out. He carefully latched the door back on the lock, and slid down to his bottom. His toes wiggled as he ecstatically giggled, hands over his ever growing smile.

"He's such a darling!" he whispered. Arthur dropped his hand to his left breast and praised, "By George, what I wouldn't do for that boy!"

He desisted, and panned his green eyes to the ceiling, his eyebrows brought together. His hands folded in prayer, and his chin bobbed back down. Arthur took a deep breath in, and it shakily came out, "God, it's been awhile since I've asked you for something. Something serious."

Arthur clicked his tongue as he brainstormed, his chest fluctuated. "But this time, I'm being honest with you."

The sweet sunny blond's image popped back into his mind. "I can't seem to get him out of my head! All I want to for you to protect Alfred. You know how important he is to me, so can you make sure no more cruel things happen to him?"

He clamped his eyes tighter and prayed harder than he ever had before, determination deep on his mindset. "Or, if you can't protect him, send an Angel. A Guardian Angel, to show him in the right direction, even if he can guide himself. Even when he leaves my life someday."

His tired body depended heavily on his knees for support, as he finished his prayer, "Promise me nothing bad will happen to my beloved Alfred anymore. Nothing is more important to me than that sweetheart, please do not torture him any longer."

Arthur staggered back to his bed and crawled under the blankets. Out of curiosity, he balled the hem of the covers to his nostrils, and stole a giant breath. He disappointedly dropped it back and mumbled, "Dammit, it doesn't smell like him."

His mouth unknowingly curled into a devious smirk, and he retracted his legs into his bottom. He scoffed with happiness, "_Yet."_

* * *

Arthur's fingers rapped on the edge of the rubbery paint of the picnic table. He scanned the perimeter, nothing but streets and cars, hurrying for a reason not influential to the world's progress. His feet toyed with the unkempt grass, his legs were bent in a gentlemanly fashion at the knee.

His hazel eyes blinked as his wait strung out, and he was starting to get anxious. What if Alfred was sick of him, due to their close quarters at home? What if, as much as he did not want to consider it, he simply refused to come?

These thoughts began pestering Arthur, and he felt his heart skip a few beats here and there. This was going to give him a freaking heart attack, or a stroke, at least.

Kirkland wrapped his fingers around the flaps of his blazer, and make a quick readjustment from the unanticipated excitement. He was worrying about nothing, although, he could not stop this self inflicted habit. He either cared way too much, or didn't care at all; there was rarely an in between.

His upper canine tooth snagged on his thin bottom lip, and he began bouncing his foot up and down. His nerves would always get the better of him, that was for certain. In one fell swoop, Arthur retrieved his cell from the back pocket of his uniform slacks. He scrolled through his messaging with the fast fury of his thumb, and came up with nothing.

Dissatisfied, he groaned and placed the phone back home. His problems were starting to torture the blond's mental state, he was not able to think clearly anymore. Actually, just the mental image of Alfred was enough to envelop Arthur's mind and concentration, rendering him unable to do anything productive.

Much to explain the reason he would skip class from time to time. His excuse for today was that he was ill, and it was a dire emergency that he had to go to the nurse's office. However, he avoided the nurse, and decided to wait for his partner in their usual spot a little earlier.

"How was I supposed to pay attention to the lesson if he was the only thing I could think of?" Arthur rambled to keep himself company in the empty outdoor cafeteria.

It was partially true; impossible issues pertaining to his boyfriend were distracting him so much that he discovered it was difficult to think of anything else more complex than picking up a pencil. The other part was pure laziness. He didn't want to complete his classwork with anything on his mind other than class goings.

Arthur fidgeted with layered blond locks, forming his mouth to blow his bangs out of his eyelashes. Just as he refocused his vision, he made out a figure coming towards him from the distance. He panicked for a moment, fearful it was a teacher to bust his ass, but he slumped when he figured out who it really was.

"Hello, Arthur!" Francis waved animatedly. The Brit crossed his arms and legs, as his friend neared. "What brings you here so early?"

"Just waiting for Alfred, that's all," he covered up.

The fashionable one took a seat beside him, and, with a gaze of disbelief, asked, "What was your excuse _this_ time?"

"I have a nasty case of influenza, and I must go to the nurse immediately," he confessed. "You?"

He puffed out his chest and fanned his fingers into it, "I have a genital infection, and it's getting way out of hand. I have to go to the bathroom to apply my 'ointment' to the irritated area."

"Nice one," he muttered. Arthur's foot tapped excessively and his tilted his head back to inhale oxygen straight through his trachea. "Fuck me, I need a smoke more than anything right now."

"I thought you quit smoking," Francis reminded. He widened his deep cerulean eyes, "Plus, do you think Alfred would like that very much?"

Arthur blew air into his cheeks, and sulked, "No, he probably wouldn't."

"Speaking of Alfie," Francis overlapped his knees, and turned to his friend. "Did you hear the rumor?"

He stiffened his stark brows, "What are you talking about?"

The French teenager's hands flew to Englishman's thigh, "_Mon dieu_, it's simply terrible! How have you not heard?!"

"Heard what?" Arthur's voice broke as his tone shifted. "Spit it out!"

"Everyone's talking about you two!" his great Atlantic's grew in build up. "I don't know who started it, but people are saying that Alfred's a flaming homosexual, and he's your little sex slave, or something!"

"That's absurd!" he straightened his back, an overdose of acrimony spiked his bloodstream. "What the hell is wrong with these people! Don't they have better things to do?"

He paused, and inquired honestly, "Wait, so he _is_ your sex slave?"

"Fuck no! I'm just pissed off!" He ran his boney fingers through his coarse hair. "_Bloody_ _hell_, do you think Alfred heard anything?"

"Well…" Francis started in an unbelievable voice, and Arthur slumped in disappointment.

"_Fucking Mary," _he cursed underneath his breath.

Frenchie bolted at the religious slur, "Don't talk like that!"

"_FUCKING MARY!" _Arthur curled his fingers into a fist and screamed at the top of his lungs. "_JESUS FUCKING CHRIST!"_

Blondie cringed and stuck his fingers in his ears, "I can't even talk to you right now!"

Arthur howled curses and incomprehensible growls, his back hunched and his forehead crushed from his palm. "Do you know what this means!"

"That some assholes started a scandalous rumor that won't mean anything to you in the future?" he shrugged.

The green eyed teen fired lasers and corrected, "I'm in a deep load of shit!"

"What do you mean?" Francis pursed his lips.

"I'm the only one who knows about Alfred's 'promiscuous background'," he provided. "And he only told me because he thought he could trust that I wouldn't say anything to anybody!"

"So when he finds out, he is going to think that you tattled to everyone?" he put two and two together.

Arthur nodded, and added, "And, when I brought him home, I might've used that as a threat against him if he didn't go out with me."

As Francis' mouth slammed to the ground, the Brit pretended to observe the area, anywhere but the other adolescent's face.

"You what!" he exaggerated, and rightfully so. "I thought he went out with you because he liked you! But you threatened him?"

"Forget that!" he dismissed, balling his fists again. "It was an empty threat! I didn't mean it!"

"Yeah, good luck telling Alfred that when he gets here!" Francis added, "The rumor started on social media over the weekend, I think."

"And, seeing how it's Monday," Arthur sighed, "everybody's probably heard it by now. Including Alfred."

"Wow, you really are in deep shit," he remarked. He batted his eyes and looked elsewhere, "What I'm concerned about is who could've started it."

"You're right," Kirkland agreed, and stroked his chin. "I do have quite a few enemies."

"A _few?_"

He came to terms, "Okay, a lot. People hate me, alright?"

Francis folded his arms and grumbled, "There are times with you I just want to…"

"Putting my chronic bitchiness aside," his voice turned hard as stone, "I don't know how Alfred is going to react. Is he going to be mad at me?"

"Judging how he's storming over here, I'd say yes," Francis pointed. Panicked, Arthur jumped as his eyes followed the Frenchman's fingers, and met with the staggering height of his enraged boyfriend.

Alfred stomped over to the pair and threw his backpack on the table. He gestured his thumb and relieved Francis, "You. Out."

He seemed as astounded by the boy's dominance as the Brit, and warily left the scene. Arthur's heart raced a mile a minute as he looked back up.

Al dug his fingernails into his palms, and shouted, "What the hell is your problem! What have I done wrong to deserve this?"

Arthur tried to stand, and waved his hands in denial, "Wait, now, it isn't what it looks like—"

"Really? 'Cause it looks _exactly_ what I think it is!" Alfred caged Arthur's smaller body by sending his hands to the edge of the table, and caused the other teen to prop his body upright by the small of his back.

He raised his brows and asked in a broken tone of voice, "How could you do that to me?"

Arthur looked for every opportunity available to him, and grabbed ahold of the teen's firm biceps. "Alfred, listen to me! I didn't say anything of the sort! I wouldn't ever hurt you! You _have_ to believe me!"

"Give me one good reason!" he said, unconvinced.

Arthur brought his brows to a point and raised his right pinky, as a reminder of his promise. Surprisingly, Alfred accepted it, and pushed off the bench. The faery tale blond held his breath.

"Okay, if it wasn't you, how would people know?" he reasoned. "Do you know how many people have walked up to me and asked how it feels to be your little slut?"

"I know, but I just found out today!" he exclaimed, still shaken up from the approach. "If Francis hadn't told me, I might not have—"

"Wait, _Francis_ told you?" the metallicy blond quirked a brow. "He _knew?_"

Arthur nodded, and Alfred hung his head in despair. He glanced up to see his partner red in the face as he whimpered, "Whatever."

His feet dragged behind him as he walked away and, perplexed, Arthur decided to stay seated, nonetheless. On the other hand, he desperately wanted to know where Alfred stood on their relationship status. If he wanted to break it off, just the possibility nearly killed Arthur.

He sat meaninglessly and stared down at the grass. If he wasn't worried about Alfred earlier, he definitely was now. That also meant he probably wouldn't be attending the rest of his classes for the day.

Now he had a new topic to obsess over: who could have such a grudge against him, or them, enough to start a boldfaced lie as such?

* * *

_To be continued… _


	5. Chapter 5

Arthur Kirkland peered the corner of the gymnasium to check who was occupying it. He caught a glimpse of Alfred, kicking the shit out of a punching bag, wearing an infuriated expression. The greened eyed teen whipped back to his spot behind the entrance wall. He blew his bangs out of his eyes as he sighed.

He wondered if that was how Alfred handled his anger, through violence. It was frightening and downright childish, but then the boyfriend/parental abuse conspiracy would make more sense. God, he hated being right in this kind of situation. He pondered how he would even start the conversation.

"Gee, Alfred," Arthur whispered the quietest he could. "I'm sorry everyone thinks we're fuckin' perverts, and it totally looks like _I_ caused the rumors. Can we kiss and make up?"

He sucked his teeth and tightened his fists. Drawing up enough courage, Arthur protruded from the doorway and guardedly made his way. He approached his partner and watched him throw a few more punches in the fitness equipment, trying not to seem intimidated by flinching.

When Alfred finally decided to look at him, he shot the most disgruntled glare Arthur had ever received from a person. He grabbed his t-shirt off the ground and wiped his glistening forehead with it. In all honesty, Arthur felt most uncomfortable around him like this. As the ocean eyed teenager stared at him, he felt his body turn to stone, unable to move under his observation.

"Whaddya come here for?" Al scoffed.

"I came to talk to you," he explained. His boyfriend rolled his eyes and turned his back, Arthur scolded, "Don't act like a child! Just hear me out!"

"What's left to hear? We already tried talking things out last night."

"More like you locked me out of your bedroom while I tried to reason with you," he corrected. Alfred wiped his sweaty palms on his gym shorts. "I want to know where we stand, or what you even think of me at this point."

He stopped his exercise. "Really?"

"Yes, really."

Alfred screwed his face and threw a fist at the punching equipment. "Eat shit and die, you bastard!"

Arthur relaxed his shoulders and let out a disgruntled howl. "There is no way to get to you! You're so immature!"

"_I'm_ the immature one?" he kept his beautiful eyes on the bag. "I'm not the one who tattled to the whole school, starting rumors and stuff!"

"How many times must I tell you?" the Englishman hunched his back, hands in an over exaggerated gesture. "I didn't say a damn thing! So you're just going to have to believe me on this!"

"Yeah, I don't think so," Al's hands remained in fists guarding his face. Arthur cringed his nose in a not-so-threatening way, his finger curled by his sides.

"You're such a thick-headed jackass! Why don't you believe me! Do you not trust me, or something!"

He paused his boxing match and pointed to the tip of his nose, Arthur blew air into his reddening cheeks.

"Alright! I know when I'm not wanted!" he folded his arms, eyes dead locked on his partner.

"Then why don't you leave?" Alfred sarcastically suggested as he proceeded.

"Maybe I will!"

"Maybe you should!"

The Brit decided not to add to the preexisting drama, so he stormed out of the school gymnasium and to the boy's bathroom. He locked himself in the biggest stall and used the excess space to pace around. His fingers traced through his dusty locks as he pondered.

"God, way to fuck things up, Kirkland," he muttered to himself. "What the hell am I going to do with him? He probably hates me!"

After a much mulled over few minutes, Arthur exited the restroom. He pulled out his mobile the check the time. Only an hour until the last bell would ring. Pattering the hallways for extra time, Arthur glanced around the high school atrium ceilings. The situation played back in his head like a broken fucking record, and it was driving him to the point of insanity.

"Hey, Arthur!" a female's voice beckoned. He tilted his head back to see who it was, but could only wish he hadn't.

"Artie, wait up!" Michelle called again as she jogged over. Her hand brushed his upper arm, and Arthur caught a glimpse of her red ruby slipper fingernail polish. "What're you doing here! I thought you'd be in class! It's very unlike you to wander the halls!"

"Yes, I know that," Arthur agreed. "But I have a lot of things on my mind, and on my plate, not to mention."

"Oh, the boyfriend drama," Michelle immediately recognized. She waved a hand over either her heart or her left breast, Arthur couldn't tell. "I heard. It must be so awful for you and Alfred!"

"Yeah, especially since I have to figure out who started the rumor." He readjusted the flaps to his blazer to remain a formal atmosphere. "You wouldn't want to know what I'd do do whomever caused this."

"I wonder who could've started it," she theorized. She placed a sparkling red nail on her crimson bottom lip. "It must've been someone you have beef with."

"I'm not _stupid_," he snapped, "I've figured _that_ much out already."

"Have you narrowed it down anyone in particular? Any one group?"

"I dunno. Maybe Yao and Ivan's lot. They don't particularly like me."

Michelle swatted her long black curls behind her back. "Maybe you're right. You should try talking to them to see if they're possible suspects."

"Yeah, I probably should," he kept walking, the tanned girl trying so hard to keep up she almost looked clingy.

As they pass a wing off the corridor, Michelle excuses herself with a flick of her wrist, "Oops! I have to get off here!"

Arthur halts to observe her departure, hands stuffed in his pants pockets. The girl waved, "See ya later, Artie!"

He returned the gesture with a chin bob, and waited until she was safely back in her own classroom. He checked the time again, and evaluated that he'd better go get his things, or that he had the energy to at least sit through the lecture for another forty-five minutes.

"Mr. Kirkland, why are you late?" the middle aged instructor interrogated, hands on her hips.

"I don't know. Why are you so obsessed with me?" Arthur regretfully quoted as the class roared. Although he was giggling under his breath, his teacher was less than enthused.

"Why don't you get your things and take a zero for the day?"

He smiled and took a big breath in, his heart pounding from rebellion. With his belongings collected and his bookbag slung on his back, Arthur left the scene of the crime. He wandered the hallways for the remaining time, Alfred being the only thing on his mind. He hid his eyes behind his forearm.

"_Christ_, why does he have to be so fucking cute!" Arthur mumbled to himself. "I'm going to go insane if I don't hear from him!"

"That's just how Alfred is, I guess," a random, soft spoken voice emerged from the background. The Englishman quickly adjusted himself and was face to face with a young blond boy.

"Erm," his emerald eyes scanned the other teen's frail body. "Pardon me for appearing so rude, but who are you?"

"Oh, I don't mind at all!" he beamed. He folded his delicate little hands into one another. "My name is Matthew Williams."

Arthur offered a handshake and Matthew gladly accepted it. "You're Arthur Kirkland, right? Alfred told me."

"How do you know Alfred?" he squinted his eyes. "How does he know _you?_"

"He's my brother."

A brother? Out of all the things Alfred could have told him, mentioning a brother wasn't one of them? How could he _not?_ He was his boyfriend and best friend, he said so himself. Was he not a priority? And just when he thought things couldn't possibly get worse.

"H-He never mentioned he had a brother, before," Arthur fumbled for the correct terms. The last thing he wanted to do was to offend this "Matthew" character.

"I dunno. He's kinda overprotective and a _little_ off his rocker when it comes to me," Williams explained with the same ditzy smile. "Technically, I shouldn't even be talking to you! But when I saw you walking around, I couldn't help but to say hi."

"How much do you know about me?" he dove right in. "What has Alfred told you?"

Taken aback, Matthew batted his pretty little eyelashes. "Oh, uh. That you're dating him. He talks a lot aboot you, actually." He placed a finger on his bottom lip, "But I don't think I was supposed to tell you that."

"It's fine, you're fine!" Arthur waved his hands. "It's just, I—"

He felt a sudden, stark grip on his shoulders and a chin resting on the top of his head. He soon recognized the stranger when he spoke.

"Hi, Mattie!" Alfred seemed more cheery than earlier. _Odd_. "Hey, Artie!"

"Hi Alfie!" the brother greeted. "I was just talking to Arthur. But it's totally my fault!" Matthew gently rapped the side of his head, "You know I'm such a ditz."

"No, it's cool!" he agreed. "And I'm sorry for being late! I was changing in the locker room, and I just got out."

"Oh, okay!" He blinked his purple eyes, if Arthur wasn't mistaken. "What do I tell mom and dad? That you're doing okay living with Artie?"

"Yeah, that'd be awesome!" he agreed, his brawny hands sliding down the Brit's petite frame. The last bell of the day rang, the clicking of door handles following. "Well, I'll call you later, okay?"

"Alrighty!" Matthew turned to the double glass doors. He waved, "Bye, bye, Alfie!"

Alfred returned the favor, "Later, Mattie!"

As soon as the daydream of a teen left the building, so did the American's sweet-as-Kool-Aid attitude. He took Arthur by the wrist and lead the couple out to the school's parking lot. When they situated themselves in the car, Alfred's gaze had turned ice cold.

"What did he tell you?" he asserted.

"N-Not much, really," Arthur tried to keep his hand steady enough to jam the key in the ignition.

Alfred reached over and his hand enveloped his smaller one. "I'm not shittin' around with you! What. Did he. Tell you?"

"Th-That his name's Matthew Williams, and he's your brother." He darted his eyes anywhere but Alfred's. "And that he knows about us, and he's not allowed to talk to me."

"You're damn straight," he took back his limb, and sat with his spine to the passenger seat. "But yeah, he's my brother."

"But how come you've never mentioned him?"

He knitted his brow, "You're pretty smart, you know that. I don't want him in a situation if people knew him like they know me."

"I see. You're only protecting him," he put two and two together.

"Yeah," Alfred huffed, his feet kicked on the dashboard and arms crossed. "He's also the only connection I have left with my family. And if you couldn't already tell, he has absolutely no filter."

"So you have to watch what you say around him," he stated the obvious. "So _I_ have to watch what _I_ say."

"Damn straight. And you're gonna stay as far away from him as possible. I don't him mixed in our drama or other people's shit."

"I guess I see where you're coming from," Arthur placed his hands on the steering wheel as the engine roared. He paused, and eventually turned off the vehicle. Alfred cocked his head.

"Why aren't we leaving?" he asked.

Arthur pressed a button and locked all of the car doors simultaneously. Alfred immediately tested the validity of the situation by yanking on the door handles.

"What the hell? C'mon, we gotta go home so I can call Mattie!" he said, wrenching on the doors. Arthur remained where he was.

"No, we're going to talk things out right here, right now. While I have you right where I want you."

"Dude! I just wanna go home!" he argued. "You're makin' a big deal outta this!"

Arthur sent a glare his way. "I'll make the situation even more embarrassing for you if I have to."

"There's nothing more embarrassing than what we already have! And I'm not talking about it now, so drop it!"

Arthur snatched the opportunity while it was still dangling in his face, literally. He leaned over and damn near slammed his arms around Alfred's neck, and stole a prolonged and steamy kiss. He looked around to make sure people were still in the parking lot and, sure enough, a group of jocks were watching through the windshield. Alfred pushed him off without much difficulty.

"What the hell's your problem! You're makin' me look really bad!"

Arthur batted his eyes up at him and puckered his lips, "And how do you think _I_ look? Surely not as bad as you, right?"

He took a quick glance at the students watching them like performers in a freak show, and back at Arthur.

"Why are you doing this? It doesn't make sense."

"Just do as I say," Arthur commanded. "Do you really want for the person responsible for the rumor see us fighting?"

Alfred shrugged, "You make a good point."

The Brit started the car again and drove straight home, the ride silent with the exception of the car radio. Occasionally, Arthur glanced over at his American lover as the wind from the rolled window swept through his hair, partially blinded when the sun hit his eyes in the right place.

_You thickheaded jackass. Don't you know how much you mean to me?_

* * *

"Alright," Arthur paced as Alfred laid on his bed, reading a 'Captain America' comic book. Those damn books all look the same, the Englishman thought. "We need to find out who started shit about us."

"Well, I don't really talk to anyone else but you and Francis," Al confessed. "But it's not like anyone's going to talk to me _now_."

"I, on the other hand, have a lot of grudges," he revealed.

The blond squinted his perfect little face, "With who?"

He batted his eyes, "Erm, do you have the time?"

"Like, name someone in particular."

Arthur tried to think of somebody recent. "Well, my ex is a total _bitch_. And we didn't go out in the best of ways. But, I'm not sure if—"

"Wait," Alfred interrupted, his face out of his book. "Who are they?"

"Michelle?"

His face tinted pink and he panned his eyes on the floor. "Oh."

"Anyway," he began back on topic. "Francis said he saw it on Twitter first. Maybe it started there and made its way everywhere else."

He shrugged and flicked his wrists, "But if Michelle actually started it, it would make sense. She's such a Twitter whore, and can't help but to…why are you acting like that?" Arthur stopped talking to study Alfred's current flustered disposition. He raised his brow, "Are you _jealous_ of her?"

He scrunched his nose, "_No!"_

"Like, _actually_ _jealous? _Are you even capable of feeling that?"

"Well, that's a little rude, dontcha think?" he creased his brows, face reddening more and more by the second.

The pair crossed their arms and squinted at each other. Arthur scoffed, "How do you think _you've_ been acting lately?"

"_I'm_ being unreasonable? That's how _you_ act," Alfred challenged. "It's amazing how I put up with it on a daily basis."

The English boy crinkled his nose and the corners of his eyes. "And you're a liar!"

Al put the comic book to the side and stood up. He got closer and sewed his brow, "Say that again."

Arthur leaned his head back and constricted his muscles, "You're a fucking liar."

He observed his partner tense up and go red in the face; it almost scared him, but he wasn't about to blow all of the time he spent building up tension. They stared at each other until Alfred smoothly insulted, "And you're crazy."

He started to leave the room, with Arthur trailing behind him. "What the hell does _that_ mean?"

"You're so obsessive!" he yelled back. "You're a psycho path!"

"I don't need the likes of you telling me if I'm mental or not!"

Alfred seemed to seethe with rage for a moment before he calmed himself down. "Look, I don't like arguing with you. I care about you too much. But I'm not gonna be the first to apologize."

He folded his arms, "And neither am I!"

They glared daggers at each other for one hot minute before Alfred stalked off, and Arthur stormed to his bedroom. For the rest of the evening, the pair had strived to stay out of each other's way, for arguments' sake.

As Arthur realized that night in his cold, empty bed, he didn't like being alone as much as he thought he did. He estimated he could manage a night or two without Alfred, but it made him think of the night he almost slept with him. The way his breath clinged to each fiber of his thick, choppy locks. How he held him close, like he, the most ornery little bastard, was the most important thing on the world. And thinking about that night only made Arthur lonelier.

* * *

"Francis, please! I'm desperate! You have to help me!" Arthur whined. Francis sent a wary look his way. The English boy took both of the blond's hands and swayed them frantically. "I need you!"

"Look, I don't know how you're going to get past this fight with Alfred," Francis turned his head the other way. "I think it's just something you're going to have to figure out on your own."

"But you don't know him like I do!" he defended. "He's so fucking stubborn, I almost can't stand it!"

"Almost?" he balanced out his priorities.

Then it hit Arthur Kirkland like a fuck load of rocks: why was he wasting his time fighting? He had worked so hard, moved so meticulously, to have Alfred in his heart. What the hell was he doing hating his time with him?

"By George, you're right, Francis," he acknowledged. "I'm not going to let this rumor get the best of Alfred and me."

"Now you're on the right track!" the French boy praised.

"I guess I'm just going to have to apologize to him. But how?"

The other blond stroked his beard and suggested, "Perhaps you could take an interest in what he likes? What does Alfred even do?"

"Reads comics books," Arthur listed. "And… that's all I know."

His brows laid straight, "Really?"

"Really."

Francis huffed and gestured his hands in the gayest way possible, "You've left me with nothing to work with here! You're going to have to be more specific!"

"Um," he thought the hardest he could recall in the longest time. "I, er. I know he likes this 'Captain America' fellow. Do you even know who that is?"

"Isn't he a superhero?" he shied away from the confrontation.

"Are you serious! He's the first Avenger, founded in 1963! Not to mention his first appearance, in 1941, where he punched Hitler clean in the face!"

The promiscuous blond folded his arms with a smirk wearing thin, Arthur covered his mouth with his fingers.

"Holy shit, how do I know that?" he cursed, astonished by his unknowing talent.

"Maybe that's Alfred talking for you." Francis slid his hands down his friend's shoulders sympathetically. "Please, for the love of God, apologize to him."

"I know, but…" he darted his hazel eyes away, "I don't know what to begin to say."

"Look," he took his limbs back. "Alfred is very different from the others you've seen; you both have a special connection. Maybe you thought that he was going to be something fun and exciting, but you've got to understand your situation. You can't just turn him away, you dived too deep."

Francis obtained a serious expression he had never seen him wear. "You need to be serious, now. You're really in for it this time, Kirkland."

Arthur blinked a few times, taking time to let it all sink in. Francis was right: he bit off more than he could chew. Alfred was indeed someone special, that when he first laid eyes on him was a deathwish.

With an arm around his now ex-lover, Michelle, he caught his first glimpse of the beauty that was Alfred F. Jones a few months ago now. Staring at the boy left him empty and fulfilled somehow, which was like nothing he had ever felt before. And if anyone knew anything about him, it was that Arthur Kirkland loved disaster. Though, he did not what Alfred to become one of the devastating accidents he always encountered.

* * *

When Arthur got home from school, he ran through the house in pursuit of his boyfriend. He didn't have a plan and didn't know what he was going to say, his exact fear, but he was going to apologize to him in some way.

"Oui, Alfred!" he called out. No answer. Arthur ran to his bedroom and ransacked it, superhero merchandise scattered everywhere now. "Alfred, I need to talk to you!"

"About what?" the cutie's unexpected voice spoke. Arthur spun around and smiled.

"How in the hell did you get home? You took off before I got to the car."

He shrugged, hands stowed in his carpenter jean pockets, "I went home with Matthew today."

Arthur raised his eyebrows, "Home? But I thought you lived _here_."

"But Mattie still lives with my parents. I don't want him to, but he agreed to let me ride his bus home every now and again to check up on him."

The English boy hung his head low as he muttered a soft, "oh". He held his hands in front of his hips and twiddled his thumbs. Alfred asked, "So, what was it you wanted to say?"

"Er, that I," his apology was starting to crumble from beneath his feet. He was going to slip up in some impossible way and make a complete fool of himself. And how much less was Alfred going to think of him then?

"Well," Alfred interrupted, and Arthur silently thanked God. "I just got some news from my parents about Matthew."

"What is it?"

"He's sick again," he sighed, his breaths jagged. "It's nothing as serious as before, thankfully."

"What do you mean he's sick?" Arthur took a brave step ahead.

"Mattie has a really shitty immune system, so he gets sick easily. Then, he doesn't go to school a lot."

"Oh," Kirkland mentally pushed himself over a cliff. He thought that the Williams boy was just a new student, not considering he was related to his boyfriend. "Right."

"Right."

"So," he coughs. "What was it you wanted to tell me?"

"Oh." Arthur twiddled his thumbs, "Look, I just wanted to say that I'm sorry. Sorry for the way I'm behaving, sorry for how I'm treating you, sorry for everything. I may not show it, but I really like you, and I don't want to lose you. I just… don't think I know how to convey my emotions."

Alfred's face melted into a smile as he responded, "That means a lot to me, Arthur."

The American reached his arms out and tangled them in his thick blond hair, pulling the shorter boy into an amorous hug. Surprised but still elated, Arthur hugs him back, inhaling his wonderful scent. Alfred speaks up, "I'm sorry, too. But you're not gonna lose me, I promise."

Arthur moved his face into Alfred's shoulder and grabbed him just a little tighter. He exhaled deeply, "We're in this together."

* * *

_AN: I'm sorry I've left this story for so long, but I finally got my motivation back. So expect more updates coming soon!_


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